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Beautiful Ireland 



Jfominfecmces of Erin ana %tx ffltytlorm 



Rev. t/! L/"CROWLEY, O.P. 

Louisville, Kentucky 



NEW YORK CITY 
THE ROSARY MAGAZINE 
PUBLISHERS 



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JAN 22 1915 

>CI.A391441 



Copyright, 1914 
By Rev. T. L. Crowley, O.P. 



DEDICATION 

This volume is affectionately dedicated to 
my uncle, the Rev. D. O. Crowley, LL.D., of 
San Francisco, California. To him and my 
religious superior I owe the delightful experi- 
ence of traveling on Erin's soil, and to my 
reverend uncle especially I owe the deeper 
love which I have acquired for Ireland and 
her people. 



PREFACE 

IT is a rare privilege for an Irish- American to 
visit the birth-land of his parents. The folk- 
songs of Ireland sung at American hearths, the 
vivid pictures of Erin's scenic loveliness and the 
stories of her saints and scholars, statesmen 
and soldiers, recounted either with pathos or 
Celtic animation, make the American youth or 
maiden yearn to visit that fair land hallowed by 
so many sacred memories. 

Ireland's sweet songs were sung for me in my 
childhood. The beauty of her green fields and 
sunny skies were oft limned for me with the 
magic brush of an Irish mother and father and 
the heroism, valor, suffering, learning and rock- 
ribbed faith of Erin's sons and daughters told 
with words of sweet exultation or dire indig- 
nation. 

I dreamt of Ireland since my boyhood. I 

longed to behold her sea-beaten cliffs and the 

majestic sweep of her rivers. I yearned to 

see her placid lakes, her hills and fields, and 

i 



ii Preface 

I especially yearned to gaze upon her children 
in their own land made so redolent with their 
exalted virtues. 

The dream of my boyhood was intensified 
during the days of my youth. With a growing 
knowledge of Ireland's history my dream took 
on the scope of a clearer vision, and the passion- 
ate longing of many years culminated in a joy- 
ful realization when I gazed upon the ravishing 
splendor of Ireland's matchless scenery and 
heard the golden greetings that came from Irish 
hearts on Irish soil. 

To my uncle, the Rev. D. O. Crowley, of San 
Francisco, and to my religious superior I owe 
the happy privilege of visiting Ireland. 

My uncle is a child of Erin. He breathed 
her air ; he drank of her beauty ; he exulted in 
her glories ; he sorrowed in her sufferings. 

He felt the chains of the oppressor and chaf- 
ing under the indignity with a sad heart he left 
his native hearth and sought the hospitable 
shores of America. His love for Ireland never 
wavered. It grew mellow with the years. He 
visited her after twenty-three years of absence, 
and called again by her plaintive voice from 
across the seas he journeyed to her embrace a 



Preface iii 

second time when I had the rare privilege of 
accompanying him. 

I make no apology for offering the itinerary 
of my yisit. I am not reluctant to contribute 
my quota of praise for the beauties I beheld. 
Others might have sung of Ireland more ten- 
derly ; others might have delineated the magic 
of her loveliness with more exquisite taste, yet 
since I lived and rejoiced and wept under her 
sunny skies I feel that I must offer the tribute 
of my admiration. 



CONTENTS 



Page 

Across the Main 1 

The City of Cork 13 

Gougane Barra and Glengarifr" 30 

Castletown-Beare 37 

The Lakes of Killarney 78 

Muckross Abbey 86 

Historic Limerick 91 

From the Shannon to Dublin 97 

Maynooth Seminary Ill 

A Journey Northward 125 

Along- the Western Coast 141 

From Mullingar to Dublin 150 

Glasnevin and Tallaght 161 





STEAMSHIP ARABIC 



ACROSS THE MAIN 



ON May the seventh, nineteen hundred and 
twelve, I left Boston. My parents gave 
me fond greetings to carry to their friends 
across the sea, and in company with my uncle 
I boarded the steamer Arabic. Kind friends 
waved adieus as the steamer left the pier, 
and after an hour on the water the perspective 
of the land had almost disappeared. Boston 
Light soon became a memory and the broad 
expanse of the ocean was before us. 

The thought of leaving fond parents and 

friends behind cast a momentary shadow of 

sadness upon me, but knowing that on another 

day I would return rich with the lore and 

1 



2 Beautiful Ireland 

beauty of the land they loved my spirit was 
cheered with this tranquil hope, and each hour 
I knew was bringing me nearer to the goal of 
my expectations. 

The steamer Arabic was a spacious vessel 
and rode majestically upon the deep. My uncle 
was buoyant with enthusiasm and at once 
sought out the self -exiled children of Erin who 
like himself were again seeking their native 
shores. He conversed genially with the differ- 
ent groups gathered on the decks, and his kind 
words and yet kinder Celtic humor soon won 
him the love of his fellow Gaels. 

The social life on the vessel was delightful, 
and the tedium occasioned by the monotonous 
expanse of the sea was admirably broken by 
the converse of the passengers and the exquisite 
execution of the ship's orchestra. 

The ocean air was exhilarating and daily 
walks on the spacious decks and quiet hours 
in the library made the days pass quite 
pleasantly. 

Through the courtesy of Captain Fench we 
both daily visited the passengers in the Second 
and Third Cabins and our humble ministrations 
were amply rewarded by the sweet devotion 



Beautiful Ireland 3 

manifested by the Irish passengers for their 
Soggarths. 

The note of gladness that was dominant in 
our daily horarium was somewhat shadowed 
by the information we received one day from 
the physician that one passenger, an Irishman, 
was suddenly confined to his bed and that but 
a meagre hope was held for his recovery. 

Michael Gould, a young Irishman from Bos- 
ton, entered the steamer with the hope of re- 
gaining his shattered health on the hillsides of 
his native land. Macroom was his birthplace, 
and buoyed by the memories of his childhood 
he sought the untainted atmosphere of his 
former home. Our entrance into the oppres- 
sive air of the Gulf Stream robbed him of 
his cherished hope of seeing Ireland, for he 
sickened, and after a struggle with his unrelent- 
ing malady he surrendered his soul on mid- 
ocean and passed to his Creator. 

A young Irish doctor summoned my uncle to 
the dying man. I accompanied him. My uncle 
heard the man's confession and to me was 
assigned the duty of the final annointing. 
Words fail to express the sadness that clutched 
at my heart. I knew that this exiled son would 



4 Beautiful Ireland 

never see the fair shores of his dreamland, his 
Ireland, and hence his body would soon rest 
uncoffined in the deep. True to the faith of 
his ancestors, this Gael centered his thoughts 
upon eternity, and after sending fond messages 
of love to his wife and child, he passed tran- 
quilly to the embrace of his Maker. 

The next evening at about eleven o'clock the 
body of this man was carried on the shoulders 
of six stalwart seamen to the stern of the ves- 
sel. The corpse in a canvas bag was covered 
with an English flag. It was placed on a rest, 
and while a large gathering of passengers 
reverently pressed around, and the captain, 
officers, and my uncle stood with uncovered 
heads, I read the prayer for committal to the 
sea. The sky was somewhat cloudy that night, 
and while I stood beneath a dim electric light 
the solemnity of the scene deeply impressed 
me. After I gave the last blessing to the 
mortal remains of this poor child of Erin, a 
section of the railing at the stern was re- 
moved and the sailors carried the body to the 
edge of the ship. Holding the English flag at 
one end, the corpse was quietly slipped under 
it into the deep, and the long pathway of foam 



Beautiful Ireland 5 

that followed in the wake of the ship was a 
fitting shroud for one whose last moments were 
sweetened by God's ineffable peace. 

The next morning Sunday services were held. 
The non- Catholics assembled in the First Cabin 
and the Catholics met in the Steerage dining 
room. There were more Catholics in the Steer- 
age than in the First and Second Cabin, hence 
my uncle issued a call for the Catholics to 
gather in the Steerage. About two hundred 
attended. 

The dining room was used for a chapel and 
though quite commodious was taxed to its ut- 
most. My uncle gave a brief address and in 
chosen words told how all moving on the bosom 
of the deep and far removed from land were 
guided and protected by the merciful hand of 
God. Father Edward Flannery of Hazard- 
ville, Connecticut, led in the recitation of the 
Rosary and at its completion I had the happy 
privilege of delivering a short homity on the 
gospel of the Sunday. 

We concluded the services by singing the Te 
Deum. All joined in the hymn and from the 
pleased and joyful expression on the faces of 
those present one could readily see that the 



6 Beautiful Ireland 

Catholics assembled felt that they had begun 
the observance of the Lord's day well. 

The occassional view of a lone bird winging 
its way along the deep and at times resting up- 
on the waves assured us that the greater part 
of our journey was past and that land would 
soon be a welcome sight. Each day brought new 
evidences that the shore was not far distant. 

Three or four hundred miles from the coast 
a few sea-gulls greeted us. One hundred miles 
nearer greater numbers careered about the ves- 
sel. When we were about ten miles from the 
first objective point fifty or sixty gracefully pin- 
ioned their way to us and seemed to bring 
sweet messages of welcome. 

The sea-gulls are beautiful birds to the pas- 
sengers sight. Their body, head and beak are 
white and their lilly-like wings are delicately 
fringed with black. Unaffrighted they grace- 
fully soar and fall in the air and occasionally 
rest upon the waves. When in view of the 
shore thousands had joined the first messen- 
gers of welcome and their majestic careering 
over and about the steamer held the passengers 
in a gentle ecstacy. It seemed that we were in 
a veritable fairy-land. Gerald Griffin writes 
very beautifully about these birds: — 



Beautiful Ireland 7 

White bird of the tempest! oh, beautiful thing', 
With the bosom of snow and motionless wing-, 
Now sweeping* the billow, now floating* on high, 
Now bathing* thy plumes in the light of the sky, 
Now poising- o'er ocean thy delicate form, 
Now breasting- the surge with thy bosom so warm, 
Now darting aloft, with a heavenly scorn, 
Now shooting along like a ray of the morn ; — 

How shall I describe the emotions occasioned 
by the first appearance of land ! How shall I 
picture the first vague and indistinct outline of 
Ireland's coast ! I thrilled with emotion when 
I gazed upon it, for I knew of the promised 
beauty that awaited me. Each plunge of the 
ship brought the shore into clearer vision and 
although I treasured the view yet I was dis- 
appointed. I looked for the "Green" Isle. I 
looked for the eternally verdant fields and yet 
all that met my gaze were the sea-beaten cliffs. 

I was an inexperienced traveller and had ex- 
pected that the first view of Ireland would be 
filled with her magic beauty. I had forgotten 
that for centuries the unceasing tides of the 
Atlantic had lashed her coasts, and that where 
briny winds and terrific storms had assailed, 
green cliffs could not exist. The vision of long 
expected beauty was deferred and my ken for the 
time was directed upon the ocean- washed shores. 



Beautiful Ireland 

*W - — 




FASTNET ROCK LIGHT HOUSE, COUNTY CORK 

After we had passed the Fastnet, a lighthouse 
erected upon a large boulder in the sea, the land 
was very visible and in a short time we anchored 
outside of Queenstown Harbor. We waited 
here for the arrival of a tender to take those 
ashore who were going to the southern parts of 
Ireland. 

There was promised pleasure in the eyes of 
those who were on the tender. The long years 
of expectation was about to be realized and 
hence joy beamed from the countenances of 
Erin's returning sons and daughters. Fond 
adieus were waved to those who remained on 
the steamer and the smaller vessel slowly 
steamed towards the entrance to Queenstown 
harbor. 



Beautiful Ireland 9 

1 was with the party on the tender moving 
towards Queenstown. I was waiting for the 
realization of my dreams of many years. I was 
impatient to gaze on Ireland's loveliness. A 
partial enjoyment was soon granted after pass- 
ing through the entrance to the harbor. Ireland 
was indeed beautiful. Her blue waters, her 
sunny hills and her dappled sky held me in a 
pleasant ecstacy. The nearer we approached 
the land the more of Erin's loveliness was un- 
folded. How comfortable the cottages looked ; 
how glorious appeared the golden gorse on the 
hillsides ; how picturesque were the yachts and 
ships in the inner harbor. I had heard much 
about the beauty of Italian skies and their re- 
flection in Italian lakes. A fascinating picture 
was presented to me and I doubt if it could be 
surpassed for loveliness. 

I saw a tiny ivhite speck in the distance in a 
cove of the bay. It was a yacht. The back- 
ground of the yacht was a stretch of ravishing 
purple as was the water upon which it rested. 
I was entranced with the beauty of this picture 
and turned to engage the attention of another 
priest and lo! when my eyes again sought the 
scene the beauty was fading. I asked my uncle 



10 



Beautiful Ireland 



the reason for this quick transition and he told 

me how fitful were the Irish skies. He quoted 

from Tom Moore's beautiful poem, " Erin the 

Tear and the Smile in thy Eyes." 

Erin the tear and the smile in thy eyes, 
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies ! 
Shining" through sorrow's stream, , 
Saddening through pleasure's beam, 
Thy suns with doubtful gleam, 
Weep while they rise. 

I readily saw the aptness of the quotation 

when the hillsides before me became constantly 

checkered with glorious patches of sunlight and 

shadow. The hurried flight of clouds assisted 

in making the change on the hillsides so subtle 

and fascinating. "The tear" was the sudden rain ; 

"the smile" was the golden burst of sunlight. 



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QUEENSTOWN CATHEDRAL 



Beautiful Ireland 11 

How pleasant it was to gaze upon the majes- 
tic church on the hillside. This Catholic church, 
Queenstown Cathedral, stands out prominently 
among all the other buildings of the town and 
from its eminence it welcomes back the travel- 
stained pilgrim to the land consecrated by Cath- 
olic blood. Its spire points to the same Heaven 
towards which every Catholic exile has been 
taught to raise his or her heart in constant 
prayer. 

I was amused and pleased to see the Irish 
names of shop-keepers over their places of 
business. In the United States we are accus- 
tomed to what some call distinctively American 
names over the entrances to business houses. 
The names of Mulligan, Sullivan, Mahoney, 
Cotter, Dorgan and O'Neil had a true Irish ring 
in them. This feature as I remarked pleased 
me but my surprise and pleasure were greatly 
increased when after landing the cab drivers 
announced the names of Gaelic hotels owned 
and controlled by such men as McCarthy, Mur- 
phy, Casey, Carroll, O'Donovan, and Shea. I 
could not suppress a burst of merriment when 
one man invited me to Crowley's Hotel. From 
this simple utterance I knew that our clan was 



12 



Beautiful Ireland 



not entirely extinct outside of an uncle in 
Castletown-bere and my relatives in the United 
States. After an inspection of the town we 
purchased our tickets at the station and pro- 
ceeded by train to Cork. 







QUEENSTOWN CATHEDRAL, INTERIOR VIEW 




BLARNEY CASTLE, COUNTY CORK 



THE CITY OF CORK 



TVTE landed at Queenstown on Ascension 
" Thursday. The day was calm and bright, 
hence my first impression of Ireland was beau- 
tiful. The train followed the graceful windings 
of the river Lee and the scenery was entranc- 
ing. Before me was the river that I had heard 
so much about, "the pleasant waters of the 
river Lee." I feasted my eyes upon the gently 
moving waters, losing them at times as we en- 
tered a dense wood or low valley. 

The season of the year was spring. The 
month was May. What more delightful month 

13 



14 Beautiful Ireland 

could we have journeyed. The air was heavy 
with the exhalations of the hawthorne and the 
fragrance was made more exquisite from the 
fact that the air had been recently clarified by 
a light fall of rain. The beauty of the haw- 
thornes themselves enraptured us and the 
scenic grandeur of the luxuriant meadows and 
verdant hills made me exclaim often that Ire- 
land was indeed an Eden of beauty. My first 
impression of Ireland's beauty was lasting and 
I doubt if I revelled in any fairer scenes in 
other parts of Ireland than unfolded to me 
along the course of the beautiful river Lee. 

We left the train at the station filled with 
delightful memories. With genuine pleasure I 
gazed upon all objects that met my eyes while 
we were being driven to our hotel. Cork, I 
could see, was an interesting city and the vi- 
vacity and alertness of its people on the princi- 
pal thoroughfares charmed me. 

After registering at the Imperial Hotel we 
took a short walk before dinner. The news- 
boys were not long in discovering that we were 
not residents of the city as we passed along 
Patrick Street, and the generous distribution 
of small coins by my uncle soon brought a small 



Beautiful Ireland 15 

array of paper venders about us. Their Irish 
eyes, smiling faces and importunate requests of 
" Father, give me a penny for a bun" were quite 
irrisistible. 

I was forced to contrast the people I met 
along the street with people of our American 
cities. The people of Cork did not surfer by the 
comparison. There was a manifest culture in 
their features and a natural refinement in their 
dress. They had what is seldom seen in Amer- 
ican cities — the flushed complexion of robust 
health. It was a glorious sight to see the 
crimson-mantled cheeks of young Irish men 
and Irish women. They spoke eloquently of 
sane living in a land whose atmosphere is gen- 
erally untainted. How often has that color 
faded from Irish cheeks on less hospitable 
shores. 

On the principal streets there was an absence 
of that nervous activity so common to our 
American thoroughfares. Business was trans- 
acted with a certain degree of alacrity, but peo- 
ple did not hurry as if they were pursued by a 
tidal wave or were escaping from a fire. 

We visited the Dominican Fathers on the 
evening of our arrival. Their church and 



16 Beautiful Ireland 

Priory were on the other side of the river from 
the hotel. The Prior. received us very cordially 
and accorded us permission to celebrate Mass 
in the church during our stay. I was impressed 
by the church. Its interior was devotional and 
the large daily attendance at the Sacrifice of 
the Mass attested the deep faith of the people. 

During our first morning in Cork we strolled 
about the city. We sought the poorer districts 
and followed the windings of the narrow 
streets. Cleanliness was evident everywhere. 
The small houses with thatched roofs were 
neatly white-washed and an occasional view 
into the interior of these dwellings showed the 
scrupulous care of an industrious Irish house- 
wife. The thatched roof was a tender relic of 
the old days and is being supplanted now by 
the less artistic but more substantial slate roof. 

We sought an eminence from where we could 
view the entire city. Following a narrow lane 
that brought us to the top of a hill we chanced 
upon a rope maker. The simple devices of his 
trade were fastened to a wall at intervals of 
forty or fifty feet, and the smaller cords were 
so manipulated by the turning of a wheel so as 
to make a strong and stout rope. This man 



Beautiful. Ireland 17 

was the only one in the city who followed the 
ancient trade. ' He talked very intelligently and 
spoke with a certain enthusiasm about current 
political affairs in Ireland. 

After viewing the beautiful prospect of the 
city we descended the hill and walked to the 
Christian Brothers school. If I am not mis- 
taken the institution is called "Our Lady's 
Mount." I had heard much of the excellent 
results of Christian Brother training in Ireland 
and during my short visit was convinced of the 
thoroughness of the Brother's teaching. 

In each class-room one or two laymen, gener- 
ally recent graduates of the school, assist the 
Brother in charge. A group of fifteen or twenty 
pupils is gathered in the different parts of the 
room and personal attention is given to them. 
The Brother in charge generally has a group 
about him or passes from one group to another 
to watch the progress of the boys under the care 
of the lay teachers or monitors. The boys re- 
cited well and answered questions intelligently. 
There was a marked neatness in the dress of 
the boys, and the deep white collars gave a 
pleasing uniformity to the class. 

Irish history and the Gaelic language now 



18 Beautiful Ireland 

form an important part of the school's curri- 
culum. Both subjects were proscribed until 
recent years, and now through the indefatiga- 
ble work of the Brothers the students receive 
unbiased information about the former history 
of their country and the language of their an- 
cestors. The Gaelic language is the key which 
unlocks the treasures of Celtic thought, and is 
at present daily explained to them. 

My uncle talked to the boys in Gaelic and was 
pleased with their proficiency. Fifty or sixty 
boys were assembled in one room to sing for us. 
The harmonious rendering of the songs was ex- 
quisite. Irish voices have excellent tone quali- 
ties when well trained. 

The manual training department is well 
established. The professor was a very compe- 
tent man and his pupils often won public prizes 
for the excellence of their work. All modern 
methods were taught and expensive modern 
machinery was installed. 

The visitor is especially profuse in his praise 
for the rare collection of innumerable articles 
gathered by one Brother in his lifetime and 
designed to teach the youth the gradual devel- 
opment of many objects both of wear and 



Beautiful Ireland 19 

utility. From the crude to the perfect state the 
specimens were well arranged. 

Those who have read any of Gerald Griffin's 
works, or who have read some of his poems, do 
not fail to leave the Brothers' property without 
visiting the grave of this illustrious writer. He 
sleeps with his brethren in their little cemetery. 
There are no memorial tokens by which atten- 
tion may be drawn to his sepulchre. The slab 
is unadorned save for the customary inscription 
stating the name of the occupant, his birth and 
death. Irishmen revere the memory of this 
versatile religious, and are thrilled each time 
anew after reading his lines. I treasure the 
recollection of kneeling with my uncle on 
the greensward of this modest cemetery and 
offering a few short prayers that the departed 
who lived hidden lives with Christ on earth 
might enjoy the fruition of His presence for 
eternity. 

Before leaving the grounds we watched a 
class in out-door gymnastics. The professor 
was a layman and a stalwart fellow. He was 
perfectly graceful in his movements and the 
boys copied him admirably. We may hear 
some day of famous athletes whose primary 
training was received at this institution. 



20 Beautiful Ireland 

The sweet tones of the Shandon Bells invited 
us to the church from which their dulcet music 
floats over the city. All Irish men and Irish 
women are familiar with Father Prout's poem, 
or rather, property speaking, Father Mahony's 
poem on the " Shandon Bells." It is a delight- 
ful tribute of affection. The music of the bells 
exerted a magic influence over his heart and over 
the hearts of all Irishmen who have heard them. 

THE BELLS OF SHANDON 
With deep affection 
And recollection 
I often think of 

Those Shandon Bells, 
Whose sounds so wild would, 
In days of childhood, 
Fling round my cradle 

Their magic spells. 

On this I ponder 
Where'er I wander 
And thus grow fonder, 

Sweet Cork of thee ; 
With thy bells of Shandon 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 

Of the river Lee. 

The church where the bells are is at present 
a Protestant church. It was taken at one time 
from the Catholics. We met the janitor at the 



Beautiful Ireland 



21 



door and my. uncle asked him if it did not seem 
strange to him to be in possession of a church 
held by the descendants of robbers? "All is 
fair in love and war, sir," was his answer. 




SHANDON CHURCH IN THE DISTANCE 



In the rear of the church is a graveyard. 
Father Mahony is buried here. In the large 
sepulchre where he rests there is room for two 
more members of his family and when they 
have passed away the tomb shall be sealed 
forever. 

No pilgrim while in the city of Cork fails to 
visit Blarney Castle. The castle is about seven 
miles from the city and is delightfully situated. 



22 Beautiful Ireland 

The recollections of my visit are still fresh. The 
jaunting car is an established vehicle in Ireland 
and my first journey in one was to the castle. 
The afternoon that we rode through the streets 
of Cork was filled with glorious sunshine. A 
light shower had fallen before we started and 
hence the fragrance of the fields and the charm- 
ing aspect of nature after we had passed the 
outskirts of the city delighted me. 

My uncle had not visited Ireland for seven- 
teen years. He was keenly sensitive to the 
beauty about him and the dulcet notes of Irish 
song birds that had- charmed his boyhood years 
again thrilled him. We paused frequently on 
the road to listen, and the liquid melody that 
came from the sylvan abodes yet brings to me 
a delightful memory. The prospect from the 
road was beautiful. There is a certain serenity 
remarkably evident in Irish scenery. The en- 
trancing beauty of Irish hills, meadows and 
streams seems to bask continually in the smile 
of an ever present Deity. 

An occasional glimpse of the castle was 
obtained as we ascended an elevation of the 
road and when the full view was presented the 
ivy clad ruin looked majestic. How well pre- 



Beautiful Ireland 23 

served was this monument of other days. The 
masonry was solid and almost intact and a 
certain rugged strength was manifest in the 
entire remains. Narrow stone steps on the 
inside led to the top. A commanding view of 
miles of exquisite scenery is had from here 
and it may be readily noted that the fields are 
especially luxuriant in this vicinity. 

It is not scenery that attracts the pilgrim to 
Blarney Castle. He may seek scenery as 
beautiful elsewhere. The magnet, the load- 
stone that draws Irish men and Irish women to 
the castle is the famous Blarney Stone. The 
supposed magic gift of eloquence attributed to 
the kissing of the stone is humorously believed 
by the Irish people. The loquacious are gen- 
erally bantered as having kissed the stone and 
the truly eloquent are considered to have re- 
ceived their gift from the imprint of their lips 
upon it. What pleasure there is to gaze upon 
this stone that has occasioned such a fund of 
good humor and pleasantry. Many humorous 
illustrations represent the Blarney Stone as 
being kissed by persons hanging over the em- 
battlements. The feat of kissing the stone, 
though attended with some personal danger, is 



24 Beautiful Ireland 

not as hazardous as generally depicted. The 
place to be kissed is on the inside and not on 
the outside of the ruin. 

The stone is perpendicular to the floor and is 
encased in the masonry. It is a part of an 
outer ledge extending around the summit of 
the castle. About one foot directly in front 
of the stone is an open space and by peering 
over the edge of the stone floor the ground may 
be seen at a great distance below. 

The person desiring to kiss the stone gen- 
erally lies upon his or her back having both 
feet well secured by friends. The shoulders 
are a little extended over the edge of the floor 
and then by allowing the head to drop slowly 
in the open space and grasping two iron rods, 
one on each side of the stone used for supports, 
the famous stone may be imprinted with the 
lips. 

The feat is dangerous, for if the persons who 
attend the reclining man or woman should re- 
lease their hold the recumbent person might 
slip through the aperture to death below. I 
know of one instance where death resulted to 
a person falling through the opening in front 
of the stone. 



Beautiful Ireland 25 

There is rare fun in witnessing the perform- 
ance of kissing the stone, and those whose 
courage does not fail them and kiss the famous 
object, treasure the day when they remember 
that they helped to perpetuate a humorous 
custom. The genial humor of the following 
poem is quite evident to those who have kissed 
the stone or who have witnessed the ceremony. 

"There is a stone there 
That whoever kisses, 
Oh! he never misses 
To grow eloquent. 



Don't hope to hinder him, 
Or to bewilder him; 
Sure he's a pilgrim 
From the Blarney Stone." 

We left the castle by means of an old secret 
passage. This was undoubtedly used in time 
of danger and offered a quick exit for the 
besieged. 

Opposite the castle is a beautiful demesne. 
It is owned by Sir George Colhurst. Access is 
not obtained readily and we were fortunate 
this day in being invited to join a party which 
had obtained permission to enter the enclosure. 

The scenery within was a marvel of beauty. 
A real old forest untouched by the ax A\as 



26 Beautiful Ireland 

before us. Immense oaks and other sylvan 
giants reared their branches majestically to- 
wards heaven and their leafy splendor formed 
a pleasing canopy. 

There were secret recesses throughout the 
woods. There were delightful glens inviting 
retirement and retreats among the rocks beck- 
oned one to explore them. Flowers grew pro- 
fusely and lent both their beauty and fragrance 
to the charm of their virgin surroundings. 

The place at one time was undoubtedly in- 
habitated by the Druids. The peculiar posi- 
tions of stones and the perfect druidical aspect 
of the forest leads to this conclusion. The 
Druids delighted in living at the very heart of 
nature and their sacrifices, if I mistake not, 
were offered upon an altar stone peculiarly 
erected. Three or four stones perpendicularly 
supported in the ground were covered with a 
flat table stone. This, it is said, constituted 
their altar. Walking through this forest which 
has almost been untrodden through the course 
of centuries gives one a delightful sensation. 

While sauntering about the city on the even- 
ing of the same day that we visited Blarney 
Castle we chanced upon the statue of O'Neil 



Beautiful Ireland 27 

Crowley, one of the martyrs of the Fenian ris- 
ing in 1867. The statue is an excellent one, and 
while commemorating 1 the gallant patriot, does 
credit to the sculptor and honor to the intrepid 
soldier. 

The people of Cork delight in taking an even- 
ing stroll a short distance out from the city. 
The Mar dyke is the name of a way or lane fre- 
quented by pedestrians. It cannot compare 
with many walks in our American cities, yet 
the quaintness of its situation and the pleasure 
afforded by traversing it so frequently has 
made it sacred to the inhabitants of the city. 

Before we had entered upon the Mardyke for 
our evening stroll my uncle's attention was ar- 
rested by a Gaelic League poster. The old en- 
thusiasm for the language possesed him and he 
resolved to attend the meeting later in the 
evening. 

After we had returned from our walk we di- 
rected our steps to the hall where the meeting 
was to be held. We ascended two flights of 
stairs in what appeared to us to be a factory. 
When we arrived at the third flight we were 
ushered into a very small and crowded room. 
No chairs were visible except those used by the 



28 Beautiful Ireland 

officers in charge of the meeting. When we 
crossed the threshold of the room word was 
passed that two priests were present and at 
once passageway was made for ns that led to 
the presiding officer's table. We were offered 
chairs and awaited for what we hoped was 
being discussed — the Gaelic language. A few 
minutes of close attention convinced us that the 
poster had deceived us, for it was very evident 
from the trend of the remarks that we were 
present at a very bitter political meeting. The 
Honorable William O'Brien was severely cen- 
sured for what the speakers called his traitor- 
ous defection from Irish interests. Of course 
my uncle and I were non-partisan as visitors and 
succeeded in eluding the reporters after the 
meeting when they desired us to reveal our 
identity. We were careful about Gaelic league 
meetings after this incident. 

A visit to the Franciscan church in the early 
part of this evening deeply impressed me. The 
fervor of the people was remarkable. I noticed 
that many women of advanced years were 
wearing cloaks with a hood attached. I was 
informed that this custom went back for many 
centuries. The use of the shawl for a covering 



Beautiful Ireland 



29 



in the colder months has almost been discarded 
by the Irish in America. It was amusing to 
watch the little children in Cork on cool 
evenings walking about covered with dainty 
shawls. 




IRISH SPINNING WHEEL 




GOUGANE BARRA, COUNTY CORK 



GOITGANE BARRA AND GLENGARIFF 



THE first real objective point after remain- 
ing in Cork for a few days was Castletown- 
beare. My mother lived here and my father and 
uncle lived a short distance from the town at 
a place called Derrymiham Before reaching 
these endeared spots two places of entrancing 
loveliness invited us to linger on the way. These 
places were Gougane Barra and Glengariff. 

My uncle had determined that we would 
travel through Ireland in an automobile. The 
train was impracticable inasmuch as an imper- 
fect view of the country was afforded, and the 

30 



Beautiful Ireland 31 

jaunting car was too slow and tedious when 
great distances were to be travelled. 

We left Cork for a pleasant journey to the 
south. The scenery continued to be charming. 
As we went further into the country the Irish 
donkey and the small cart became more evi- 
dent. One cannot resist a smile when the don- 
key and the miniature vehicle to which it is 
attached are seen for the first time. It seems 
that the strength of the donkey is overtaxed 
and the sleepy attitude of the beast would lead 
one to suppose that it was thoroughly unfit for 
service. The donkey is not graced with speed 
but yet gives excellent service to the people. 
The animal is strong and requiring little fodder 
for sustenance is easily maintained. So docile 
is the beast that women and children drive it 
upon all occasions. I know of no more pleasing 
sight than to see a goodly number of Irish men 
and Irish women drive the donkey to market on 
Fair days. 

The roads throughout Ireland are perfect for 
motoring. Constant attention for centuries has 
put them in their almost perfect condition. We 
passed the Inchigeela lakes on our way to 
Gougane Barra. The lakes though small were 



32 Beautiful Ireland 

placid and beautiful, and the heather which 
fringed them lent greater picturesqueness to 
the scene. 

Gougane Barra offered us much pleasureable 
meditation. St. Finn Barr is a name dear to 
Irish hearts, and his little island home has long 
been a mecca for Irish pilgrims. Nestled 
among the mountains the verdant little island 
rests peacefully upon the bosom of the encirc- 
ling lake. The Irish poet, James Joseph Cal- 
lanan, speaks beautifully of it. 

" There is a green island in lone Gougane Barra, 

Where Allua of songs rushes forth as an arrow ; 

In deep- valley ed Desmond, a thousand wild foun- 
tains 

Come down to that lake, from their home in the 
mountains ; 

There grows the wild ash, and a time-stricken 
willow 

Looks chidingly down on the mirth of the billow ; 

As, like some gay child, that sad monitor scorning, 

It lightly laughs back to the laugh of the morn- 
ing." 

Among aged trees green with their dark 
foliage stands the remains of the saint's old 
hermitage. Circular in shape and quaintly 
graced with low narrow cells, it reminds the 
visitor of the early days of piety and self-sacri- 



Beautiful Ireland 33 

flee of the Irish monks, the companions of St. 
Finn Barr. 

On a mound in the center of the enclosure 
stands a cross, and frequently throughout the 
year the knees of votaries of this holy place 
imprint the ground before it. God alone knows 
the depth of the piety of the recluses who lived 
in the shadow of the elevated cross as He alone 
knows what graces their long vigils, prayers 
and fasts brought to the tear-stained dwellers 
of persecuted Ireland. Nothing remains of the 
old church, and in its place is a beautiful and 
substantial stone edifice. 

Mass is yet offered each Sunday throughout 
the year, and the devout dwellers from the 
seemingly uninhabitable crags among the neigh- 
boring mountains, assist at all the services in 
the chapel. What tender memories cling to the 
island sanctuary. What delightful reveries 
may one not indulge in who has gazed upon the 
sweet and solemn grandeur of this hallowed 
spot. Well may the river Lee begin its course 
from this dell among the mountains. The bles- 
sings of Ireland's early apostles continue to be 
carried along the bosom of its crystal waters. 

The people of Ireland justly pride themselves 



34 Beautiful Ireland 

on one of their garden spots — Glengariff . Some 
thirty miles from Gougane Barra is this Eden 
of beauty. Rich in scenic grandeur it faces the 
blue waters of Bantry Bay, and the tired deni- 
zens of both the cities and towns of Ireland 
and also England seek its refreshing atmosphere 
and quiet. So mild was the temperature at our 
visit that Calif ornian poppies in excellent bloom 



GLENGARIFF, COUNTY CORK 



greeted us at our arrival in the hotel. English 
warships, both leaving and entering the deep 
waters of the outer bay, can be seen frequently, 
and the air richly scented with the fragrance 
of flowers gives an exhilarating pleasure while 
sauntering among scenes of such natural loveli- 
ness. 



Beautiful Ireland 



35 



My uncle and I offered the Holy Sacrifice at 
the village church. The pastor was gracious 
in his courtesies, and the well filled church and 
manifest devotion of the people added but 
another testimony to their rock-ribbed loyalty 
to the religion of their forefathers. Two hotels 
with modern conveniences overlook the waters 
of the bay, and both seem to enjoy equal advan- 
tages from their respective locations. 




VIEW OF SUGAR LOAF MOUNTAIN, GLENGARIFF 



P""" ' ~ " ~ : 





C ASTLETOWN-BEAR E, COUNTY CORK 



CASTLETOWN-BEARE 



SUNDAY found us hastening with pleasura- 
ble anticipations to the delightful village of 
Castletown-Beare. It nestles in an angle of the 
Caha Mountains, on the western shore of 
Bantry Bay. The weather was somewhat in- 
clement, yet the downpour of rain did not pre- 
vent the parishoners of churches we passed on 
the way from attending Mass. 

Neatly attired, both the young and the old 
braved the shower, and the serenity of their 
features bespoke the deep faith they had in the 
coming celebration of the divine mystery. One 
church was so crowded that the villagers knelt 
without the outer door with bowed heads and 
reverent aspect. The rain did not deter them. 

37 



38 Beautiful Ireland 

At Ross Macowen, five miles from the termi- 
nus of our journey, we stopped before the 
church. Little groups were gathered outside and 
engaged in conversation. We entered the edi- 
fice and saw a class of children being instructed 
in catechism. This place was a mission and 
the priest who had finished offering the Holy 
Sacrifice accompanied us to Castletown. 

An American born of Irish parents has often 
heard descriptions of the birthplace of his 
father and mother. I had heard much of the 
home of my mother and father and as we sped 
along in the auto towards the edge of the town 
the scenery of Castletown was gradually un- 
folded to me. There are undoubtedly more 
beautiful spots in Ireland that charm one than 
Castletown. I do not doubt but that there are 
other places which have a more delicate and 
magic beauty. The charm of Castletown-Beare 
was in its memories, and when I gazed upon 
the 'placid waters of the bay and the rugged 
grandeur of the hills the place was doubly 
dear to me. 

I was not the only one who was thrilled both 
by memories and the aspect before us. My 
uncle was reminiscent and since the shifting 



Beautiful Ireland 39 

scenes were far dearer to him than to me, I 
knew that his heart was too full for utterance. 
The words of his beloved poet Thomas Moore 
were often on his lips while in our land of toil 
and strife. 

Who has not felt how sadly sweet 

The dream of home, the dream of home, 

Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, 
When far o'er sea or land to roam ? 

His home was now before him and he gazed 
upon it affectionately. When we arrived at the 
hotel in the town we were greeted by our rela- 
tives with a genial Irish effusiveness. The wel- 
come was tenderly affectionate and I was much 
impressed by its sweet sincerity. 

The Canon of the parish church called a 
short time after our arrival and insisted that 
we would dine with him and the Fathers at the 
Rectory at four o'clock that afternoon. From 
noon until four o'clock we were at leisure and 
we prepared at once to ride to the old homestead 
of the Crowleys. The house was a short dis- 
tance from the town at a place called Derry- 
mihan. 

Perched on a gently sloping hillside the house 
overlooked the blue waters of Bantry Bay. The 



40 



Beautiful Ireland 



Caha Mountains rose majestically in the distance 
and the prospect enjoyed from the eminence 
was delightful. My uncle is a poet both in heart 
and in expression, and in many of the gems of 
his thoughts he raphsodizes on the subtle 
charms of the environments of his ancient 
hearth. The following excerpt from his poem 
on " Christmas Memories " has alone brought 
him international fame. 

" Far across the shimmering* ocean 

Lies a lonely little dell, 
Nestling* 'mid the hills of Beara, 

Where a hundred fountains well ; 
Sylvan slope and leaping* torrent, 

Verdant g-lade and cliff and stream 
Make that lonely mountain hamlet 

Lovely as a painter's dream." 




LOOKING TOWARDS THE BAY, CASTLETOWN 



Beautiful Ireland 41 

The picture before us was "Lovely as a 
painter's dream," and though the dwelling of 
nry ancestors was neither as rich nor beautiful 
as our American mansions, yet it was aureoled 
with tenderest memories. Here was the place 
my father had spoken so much of. Here was 
the place where he and my other uncles now 
departed had spent their youth and early man- 
hood. There were tears in my reverend uncle's 
eyes as he grasped the hand of his brother, the 
lone member of his family in Ireland, and there 
Avere tears of gladness in my own eyes when I 
felt the warm hand of my uncle John, and 
heard his and my assembled cousins' genial 
welcome. 

Two boys and five girls, rugged in health and 
blessed with ruddy complexions, charmed us by 
their guileless simplicity and innocent gaiety, 
and a delightful period was spent with them. 

When we arrived at the rectory we were cor- 
dially received by the clergy and at the ap- 
pointed time sat for the Sunday dinner. Few 
Americans know how delicious an Irish dinner 
is. Few know how appetizingly it is prepared. 
It is more delightful when spiced with genial 
Celtic wit, and on this occasion the kindly 




42 



Beautiful Ireland 43 

humor of our host and his fellow priests kept 
us in a state of constant merriment. The real 
Irish story teller fascinates with the pleasing 
expression both of feature and voice, and 
among all story tellers I think is inimitable. I 
treasure the memories of the afternoon I dined 
with the clergy of Castletown-Beare. 

The reverend canon invited my uncle to 
preach at the evening devotions. The devo- 
tions were to begin at five -thirty, and my uncle 
insisted that the honor should be given to me. 
A heavy rain was falling, and judging by the 
attendance in many of our American churches 
when the weather is inclement, I thought that 
but few people would attend. I was agreeably 
surprised when I entered the pulpit to find that 
the large edifice was so crowded that about one 
hundred and fifty of the parishioners were 
forced to stand in the back of the church. This 
was a pleasing testimony of the deep faith of 
the people, as my uncle and myself had not 
been announced to speak. 

I very happily chose to speak on devotion to 
the Blessed Virgin as it was then the month of 
May, and conscious that my parents had im- 
bibed their tender love for our Blessed Mother 



Beautiful Ireland 



45 



on this very eminence where the church is 
placed, I found greater inspiration for my words. 
I was edified by the soulful attention of the 
worshippers, and knew by the religious earnest- 
ness of their upturned faces that no preachment 
of mine was needed to convince them of the 
personal interest our Blessed Lady has always 
manifested both in their welfare and in the 
welfare of their race. 



p,? v iv ;::! 




HARBOR'S MOUTH, CASTLETOWN, BEREHAVEN. COUNTY CORK 

There were women in the church that night 
who were playmates with my mother. There 
were men there that night who were compan- 
ions of my father in his boyhood days. How 
rare was the privilege for me to address them. 

After the services were concluded the presi- 
dent of the Ancient Order of Hibernians in- 



46 Beautiful Ireland 

vited my uncle and myself to attend a meeting 
in their hall. We gladly accepted and were 
enthusiastically welcomed by the members. My 
uncle spoke quite eloquently of the prosperous 
conditions in Ireland as he viewed them, and 
elicited much applause by the feryidness of his 
address. I was honored by being asked to make 
a few remarks, and I was pleased by the wrapt 
attention of my auditors. 

Our visit to the Hibernian Hall was unex- 
pected both for the members and for ourselves 
so the president requested my uncle to favor 
the members again with his presence on the 
following Sunday evening. They desired him 
to talk at greater length on his recent impres- 
sions of Ireland and at the same time wished 
to bring many of their friends so that they 
could make a gala night of the event. My un- 
cle has always been a recognized leader in Hi- 
bernian circles in America and the people of 
his birthplace gloried in having so illustrious a 
fellow-townsman. My uncle consented to ad- 
dress them. 

For the week intervening we decided to motor 
to the Lakes of Killarney and from there hasten 
to Cork. After a day in Cork we intended to 



Beautiful Ireland 



47 



take the train for Bantry and from Bantry re- 
turn to Castletown by water. 

The journey to Killarney was delightful and 
the visit to the famous lakes indeed memorable, 
but as we made a second trip to the lakes I wish 
to reserve my few observations on the beauties 
I beheld for the succeeding chapter. 




DEENISH ISLAND, CASTLETOWN, PEREHAVEN, COUNTY CORK 

Many things attracted my attention and 
pleased me on this short trip, but I think 
that I was especially impressed during a short 
stay at Bantry. 

We visited a school conducted by the Sisters 
of Mercy. We arrived while the children were 
entering for the morning classes, and passing 
from one room to another conversed with the 



48 Beautiful Ireland 

children. We examined specimens of the pu- 
pils' pen work and drawing and marvelled at 
the neatness and accuracy. In some rooms the 
children sang for us and their sweet plaintive 
voices gave us much pleasure. Songs which 
have an endearing sweetness for Irish Ameri- 
cans such as "Ireland, I Love Thee," " The Dear 
Little Shamrock," and others equally familiar- 
were well rendered. 




THE BASIN, CASTLETOWN 



Daily lessons in the Celtic language are given 
and a marked proficiency was shown. Some 
time after our arrival a bell was rung and the 
children walked in double file to a spacious 
lawn in front of the building. On this well 
kept lawn was a statue of the Blessed Virgin. 
The children while approaching the statue sang 



Beautiful Ireland 49 

May hymns in honor of the Queen of May, and 
when they had encircled it a nun read a prayer 
to the Virgin. At the conclusion of the short 
service the children returned to the school 
building two by two and again took up the 
sweet refrain of a hymn. This spectacle would 
have softened the flintiest heart. 

Few can remain unmoved when witnessing 
the tender effusiveness of innocent hearts and 
the sweet voices of those children uttering the 
homage of their unblemished souls to their 
heavenly protectrix brought to my lips a prayer 
of thankfulness that God had permitted me to 
witness this manifestation of piety. A blessing 
on the Irish Sisterhoods whose sweet example 
and daily inculcating of love for our Immacu- 
late Mother has helped to win for the daughters 
of Ireland the enviable crown of unsullied 
womanhood. 

The sail from Bantry to Castletown was 
delightful. The waters of Bantry Bay were 
almost placid and the scenery along the route 
was entrancing. Much information was given 
to me as we passed points of local interest 
and places which were associated with the 
history of the Irish people were carefully 



50 



Beautiful Ireland 



observed and studied. Beare Island and Angry 
Hill won my closest attention. 

We arrived at Castletown on Saturday and 
my uncle was invited to preach, at the late Mass 
on Sunday morning. Pentecost fell on this day 
and the occasion was a glorious one to recount 
the triumphs of the militant church. 







ANGRY HILL 



My uncle was equal to the occasion and 
preached eloquently on the visible manifesta- 
tion of the Holy Spirit during the trials of the 
infant Church and her later ultimate successes. 
For fifty minutes the congregation was rapt 
in the deepest attention, and the sincerity and 
sweet unction of his words gave both pleasure 
and edification. The day was a memorable one 



Beautiful Ireland 51 

for my uncle. It was the first time that he had 
spoken in the church. It was the first time 
that boyhood friends had heard him announce 
the divine word, and I am sure that the spiritual 
import of his sermon shall long be remembered 
by his auditors. 

Sunday afternoon passed pleasantly. We 
enjoyed a quiet sail upon the bay and visited 
an English man-of-war anchored some three 
miles from our hotel. The vessel was gigantic 
in dimensions, and being of recent structure 
offered us much pleasure and instruction while 
inspecting it. 

We dined early that evening at the old home- 
stead. One of the Fathers at the rectory 
honored us with his presence, and both a 
daintily arranged and a well-cooked meal was 
served. Nineteen years had passed since my 
uncle had dined here. Few children then 
graced the table with their sweet features. Five 
comely young women, a youth of fifteen and a 
stalwart young man of twenty-one were present 
on this occasion. I cannot forget that evening. 
I cannot forget it for the same number shall 
never attend the evening dinner again. My 
uncle John, the father of these children, re- 




52 



Beautiful Ireland 53 

cently passed to another world, and two of his 
children have since journeyed to this hemis- 
phere. 

The lecture my uncle was to deliver to the 
Ancient Order of Hibernians was scheduled 
for eight o'clock that evening. After leaving 
the residence on the hill we repaired to the hotel 
and finished the recitation of the Divine Office. 
At seven-forty my uncle was impatient to start 
for the town hall. The spiritual director of the 
Hibernians had planned a surprise. He notified 
the members that they were to march to the 
hotel and escort Father Denis to the hall. 
Leaving before the arrival of the Hibernians 
would frustrate the object of the reverend di- 
rector, so I had much difficulty in restraining 
my uncle until the arrival of the director and 
the men. He chafed under the restraint and 
employed the intervening time in the recitation 
of his beads. At five minutes of eight Father 
Scannel, the director, came to my room. He 
told me that the men had started from the town 
square and would shortly make their appear- 
ance. We withdrew to a position where we 
could observe my uncle when the first notes of 
the band would strike his ears. We did not 



54 



Beautiful Ireland 



have to wait long. The resonant notes broke 
forth half a square from the hotel, and going 
to the window my uncle asked us the meaning 
of the approaching procession. We told him 
that the procession was planned both as a sur- 
prise and as a mark of respect to him, and that 
the men had come to the hotel to escort him 
to the lecture hall. 



p 




ADRIGOL.E, BEARHAVEN 



The surprise was complete, and as he gazed 
upon the men in the street below tears came 
to his eyes. It was a glorious spectacle to see 
the stalwart sons of Erin turning out to wel- 
come their fellow-townsman who had won such 
distinction in the United States, and their loud 
acclaim when he appeared before them evi- 
denced the sincerity of their joyful welcome. 



Beautiful Ireland 55 

He thanked them for the distinguished honor 
of their presence in words weighted with emo- 
tion, and after a loud outburst of applause ranks 
again were formed. The band played a spirited 
selection, and followed by some three hundred 
men, proudly escorted my uncle and other 
priests to the auditorium. 

Outside of the hall the men, three hundred 
strong, fell into double file and made a pathway 
for the priests to pass between them. 

The spiritual director of the Hibernians in- 
troduced Father Denis. His words were well 
chosen and his encomiums were pointed and 
true. There were flashes of real Celtic wit in 
his remarks and his sweet Gaelic intonations 
were delightful to hear. 

My uncle chose for his topic, " The Present 
Economic Conditions in Ireland." He was a 
master of the subject and there was both depth 
and precision in his observations. He had 
studied Ireland's history from his childhood. 
His interest in her affairs had never relaxed 
during his years of priestly effort, hence his 
knowledge of her past and present was com- 
prehensive. 

There was a charming spontaneity to his 




56 



Beautiful Ireland 



57 



words, and his entire address scintillated with 
a kindly humor. 

I was glad that I was there that night. I 
was glad that I was there to witness the enthu- 
siasm of the audience. They were unstinted 
in their applause, and their effusive outbursts 
attested that the evening was spent profitably 
and pleasantly. 

I had heard much of the old village school. 
Relatives in America had spoken of it fre- 
quently and my uncle treasured the memory of 
the days he had spent there. My father and 
mother had attended there so it naturally drew 
me to its precincts. 




VILLAGE SCHOOL, CASTLETOWN 



58 Beautiful Ireland 

My uncle wrote of it quite beautifully : 

" There above the darkling* river, 
And beneath the hillock brown, 
Stands the dear old white-walled school house 
By a busy ancient town." 

One morning in May when the air was redo- 
lent with the fragrance of the fields and the 
sun was golden with its glory we visited it. 

The school contained three rooms, and when 
we entered the children were busy with their 
morning tasks. The teacher and his assistants 
received us cordially and we also read a happy 
welcome in the bright eyes and smiling features 
of the pupils. My uncle remarked that the ap- 
pearance of the school had not changed. 

One figure was absent who made the former 
days memorable and that was the venerable 
teacher, Mr. Dwyer, who for forty years or more 
had instructed the children of Castletown. I was 
glad to see the old school house. I was glad to 
see the youthful students, who shall yet reflect 
credit upon their modest institution, and I am 
confident that the untiring efforts of the teach- 
ers we met shall be amply rewarded by the 
thorough scholarship of their charges. 

In the afternoon of the same day we called 
upon Mr. William Dwyer. The weight of years 



Beautiful Ireland 59 

had forced him to resign his position, and living 
a short distance from the scene of his former 
labors he watched the progress of those that 
an infirm constitution prevented him from 
teaching. 

My uncle's old preceptor was overjoyed at 
seeing him. Father Denis was likewise de- 
lighted to grasp the warm hand of his old 
teacher and a few hours of reminiscent conver- 
sation followed. 

Mr. Dwyer is a real type of the old Irish 
school master. His interest in international 
affairs was still deep and searching and he 
amazed us by the exhibition of a remarkably 
retentive memory. He was always a close 
student and though at our meeting his eye- 
sight was somewhat impaired, yet he told us 
that he read considerably and had a young 
niece read to him a few hours daily. One of 
his sons was eminent in the medical profession, 
and another son is at present the genial and 
esteemed pastor of St. Patrick's church in 
Denver, Colorado. He rode with us around 
the hills in the vicinity of his cottage and dis- 
cussed the history of many places familiar to 
my uncle. 



Beautiful Ireland 61 

One fine morning my uncle and I rode horse- 
back to a neighboring mountain. The roads 
were excellent for riding and in the narrower 
and more difficult parts of our journey we 
found the horses quite sure-footed. It was edi- 
fying to see the piety of the people who dwelt 
in secluded places. Many children of these in- 
habitants return from different lands to visit 
their parents and we enjoyed the converse of 
one young lady who had travelled from 
America to visit again the scenes of her child- 
hood. 

The Sisters of Mercy are well established in 
this town. Their school is largely attended 
and the work of the Sisters is thorough. We 
were especially pleased with the lace depart- 
ment. We marvelled at the specimens of the 
girls' work and we were glad to hear that the 
government manifested an interest in the 
young ladies following this line. The teach- 
ers of this branch are paid so much daily by 
the English government and those employed in 
the making of lace may sell and keep the profit 
of their product. I am sorry the demand for 
lace is not greater. A high tariff keeps the 
sales quite limited and consequently this in- 
dustry does not give constant employment. 



62 



Beautiful Ireland 



We called one day upon a neighboring pas- 
tor. At that time the Stations were being held. 
Those who have lived in Ireland are familiar 
with this institution. At certain times in the 
year the pastors of adjoining parishes assemble 
at a certain church and offer the people the 
opportunity of making their confessions to 
priests with whom they are not so closely asso- 
ciated. 




EAST VIEW 



In American cities where there are many 
confessors in the different churches, the 
penitents are at liberty to visit the confessional 
of whomever they desire. In isolated sections 
of Ireland this advantage is not so readily en- 
joyed on account of the distances, and hence 
an effort is made at different periods of the 



Beautiful Ireland 63 

year to permit the people the choice of three 
or four confessors. 

In the country churches there is generally 
but one confessional and to a stranger it seems 
somewhat odd to see three or four priests hear- 
ing confessions at different places in the body 
of the church, unscreened and in full view of 
the parishoners. It w r as pleasant to see so 
many people visit the church, and as in all 
other places, I was deeply impressed with the 
spirit of devotion. 

The young men and women who lived both 
in this delightful town and afterwards emigra- 
ted to other lands have, in their own respective 
spheres, reflected credit upon their birthplace. 
They glory especially in one place situated near 
their homes which has been a household word 
for Irish valor and heroism. This place em- 
blazoned on the choicest pages of Ireland's his- 
tory is Dunboy Castle. 

Dunboy Castle was a strong fortification 
commanding the entrance to Castletown har- 
bor. It was a great vantage point and the last 
hope of the Irish soldiers fighting for the na- 
tional cause in the south of Ireland during 
the close of Elizabeth's bloody reign. 




64 



Beautiful Ireland 05 

In recent clays and old, the men of Beare and 
Bantry, at home and abroad, have proved them- 
selves worthy of such ancestors. They have 
been fearless at sea and valiant on shore. 
Though loving all Ireland, they take much local 
pride in the glowing traditions that cling round 
the hills and sanctify the valleys of Beara. 

The siege of Dunboy Castle began on the 
sixth of June, sixteen hundred and two, and 
lasted until the morning of the eighteenth, 
when the fortress was a mass of ruins. 

One hundred and forty-three selected pa- 
triots, under the command of Richard Mac- 
Geoghagan, defended the stronghold against 
three thousand five hundred English soldiers 
with two batteries of artillery commanded by 
Carew, the then Lord President of Minister. 
Donald O' Sullivan, the Prince of Beare and 
Bantry, was absent during the siege. He went 
to meet the officers of a Spanish ship who 
landed at Ardea on the Kenmare Kiver. 

MacGeoghagan and his clansmen covered 
themselves with immortal glory, but the over- 
whelming numbers of the well appointed artil- 
lery of the invader prevailed against the skill 
and undaunted valor of the native defenders. 



66 Beautiful Ireland 

After the fortress had been dismantled, an 
English writer, giving an account of the siege, 
said: "The entire defence consisted of one 
hundred and forty-three selected fighting men, 
being the best choice of all their available 
forces. Of these no man escaped, but were 
either slain or buried in the ruins, and so ob- 
stinate and resolute a defence had not been 
seen within this kingdom." 

In view of this testimony from an enemy, it 
is no wonder that a native poet, centuries later, 
should commemorate in stirring verse the pa- 
triotism and valor of Dunboy's stern defenders : 

"Down Time's silent river their fair names shall go 

A light to our race towards the long coming day; 

Till the billows of time shall be checked in their 

flow 

Can we find names so fit for remembrance as 

they? 

And we will hold their memories for ever and aye, 
A halo, a glory, that ne'er shall decay ; 
We'll set them as stars o'er Eternity's sea 
The bright names of the warriors who fell at 
Dunbui." 

For eleven days MacGeoghagan bravely op- 
posed the attacks of the English. On June 
the seventeenth, the castle was almost entirely 



Beautiful Ireland 67 

destroyed. A messenger was sent to the enemy 
to state that the besieged would surrender if 
they were allowed to leave with their arms. 
The messenger was hanged. One hundred 
and forty-three remained in a cellar of the 
castle, their last retreat. MacGeoghagan was 
mortally wounded and the command of the 
small force was given to Thomas Taylor. He 
attempted to obtain an honorable surrender 
and stated that unless their terms were re- 
ceived he would blow up the remnant of the 
castle together with the men. The English 
refused to consider his proposal. 

Thirty men attempted to escape by swim- 
ming but were killed by English soldiers in 
boats. 

The morning after the refusal to arrange for 
an honorable surrender heavy shot from the 
English cannons was poured into the Irish 
retreat and the men were forced to surrender 
unconditionally. When some English officers 
entered the cellar of the castle they found 
MacGeoghagan staggering towards the nine 
barrels of gunpowder with a flaming torch in 
his hand. He was seized and slain. 

Fifty-eight of those who surrendered were 



L . . 




Beautiful Ireland 69 

hanged that day and others were hanged a few 
days afterwards. Not one of the one hundred 
and forty-three valiant defenders survived the 
terrible siege. Carew had the remains of the 
castle razed. 

Knowing the history of the defence of this 
castle and the unexampled bravery of the de- 
fenders, one cannot look upon the ruin of the 
old foundation without a feeling of horror and 
yet subsequently with a feeling of reverence. 
Horror, when we think of the English brutal- 
ity, and reverence when we think of the heroic 
Irishmen who so nobly faced certain death 
against overwhelming odds. 

Xations are justly proud of their illustrious 
dead who profusely gave their life's blood that 
their institutions and welfare might be safe- 
guarded. Few can point to more devoted sons 
than the Irishmen at Dunboy who hurled such 
deathly defiance at the invaders of their soil. 

The castle is but a short distance from the 
former home of my mother and the old home- 
stead of my father. They knew its history 
well and I do not wonder that they held the 
place in such reverential awe. 

At present the property is in the hands of 



70 Beautiful Ireland 

an English landlord. I hope that the time 
shall soon come when it shall pass into better 
hands and that a fitting memorial shall be 
raised there to commemorate the deeds of 
other days. 

I cannot pass from the consideration of this 
event without subjoining the spirited stanza of 
that well known writer, Robert Dwyer Joyce : 

" They who fell in manhood's pride, 
They who nobly fighting died, 
Fade their mem'ries never, never ; 
Theirs shall be the deathless name 
Shining brighter, grander ever, 
Up the diamond crags of Fame ! 
Time these glorious names shall lift 
Up from sunbright clif t to clift — 
Upward to eternity ! 
The godlike men of brave Dunbui ! " 

Visitors of Irish parentage do not fail while 
visiting Ireland to journey to the resting places 
of their ancestors. It was my happy privi- 
lege while in Castletown to visit the little 
cemetery on the hillside where my grand- 
parents are buried. My uncle and I on one 
mild and sunny afternoon walked to the 
graveyard. 

Slowly wending our way among the tomb- 
stones we paused for a short prayer above the 



Beautiful Ireland 71 

earth that contained the fragile remains of 
those whose memory was still kept fragrant. 
" Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord." 
These words of Scripture are fraught with the 
tenderest meaning. The dwellers on this 
peaceful hillside had a sublime trust in the 
promises of their God and their rigorous ad- 
herence to the principles of their faith has un- 
doubtedly long ere this been rewarded by the 
vision of their Maker. 

Peace to their souls! The rod of English 
persecution did not weaken the tenacity of 
their belief. The deprivation of material 
goods did not shake their confidence in the 
hope of better things in a newer life and the 
divine kindness of a triune God still blesses 
their remains. 

I received much inspiration from my visit. 
I resolved to emulate the departed in their 
rock-ribbed devotion to the tenets of their 
religion, and I hope that one day I shall meet 
them and share their eternal felicity in the 
great beyond. 

A few days before leaving Castletown a 
friend of my uncle, Mr. P. J. Gartland, of San 
Francisco, came into the town in his magnifi- 




72 



Beautiful Ireland 73 

cent Winton touring car. His wife and chil- 
dren accompanied him, one little girl and three 
boys. He brought his car from San Francisco. 
It was shipped from the Pacific to the Atlantic 
coast in the United States, and then carried to 
Ireland by steamer. 

He told my uncle that he would join him 
after he had reached Ireland as his prior ar- 
rival would give him time to visit his relatives. 

We had intended to journey extensively 
through Ireland and Mr. Gartland insisted 
that his car should be used for the trip. We 
made preparations for the journey, and Father 
Denis appointed that on the eve of our depar- 
ture his brother's family and Mr. Gartland's 
family should dine at the hotel. 

Seventeen were seated in the dining hall of 
the hotel on that last evening. It was memo- 
rable for all who gathered there. After the 
repast we adjourned to the parlor, and assisted 
by three talented young lady friends of our 
relatives a delightful evening of song and in- 
strumental music was enjoyed. 

The last number was "God Save Ireland." 
This is a favorite song of Father Denis. In a 
sweetly tenor voice he sang the verses and all 




74 



Beautiful Ireland 



75 



the other members of the party joined in the 
chorus. Few could forget that evening. Few 
could forget the genial mirth and innocent 
gaiety of the party, and when the last note was 
rendered and the parting word of the evening 
spoken all undoubtedly felt that the memory 
of the event would be long cherished. 




CASTLE HOUSE FROM G1LMANS WOODS 

The following morning we offered the Holy 
Sacrifice in the church and we both left the 
sacred edifice reluctantly. The car was pre- 
pared for the journey and we gazed upon the 
delightful old town perhaps for the last time. 
The prospect before my uncle meant more to 



76 



Beautiful Ireland 



him than to me. He was familiar with every 
object. In his youth, when he was tired with 
the spirit of patriotism, he had planned, as 
other youths had planned, for Ireland's eman- 
cipation and the betterment of his townspeople. 
While the galling chains of an abject slavery 




ROANCORRIG LIGHT 



3ETWEEN BEAR ISLAND AND THE MAINLAND 



made dark the horizon of his fondest hopes, he 
sought a larger field to assist the downtrodden 
of his race when he bade his native shores 
farewell and sailed for the new world. 

Deremihan, as I remarked before, is a small 
suburb of Castletown. This spot was dearest 
to my uncle as he was born here and lived 



Beautiful Ireland 



77 



under its pleasant skies. In soulful words 
which he had written before he addressed to 
it a parting benediction: 

" O, Deremihan ! farewell to you, 
Betwixt the bay and mountains blue, 
And to thy breezy height of view 
Where first I saw the morning. 
Of all the world I love thee most, 
Wild hamlet of the fairy coast ; 
Nor can Columbia's realms boast 
Of scenes more fair and charming." 




COAST GUARDS' STATION, CASTLETOWN 




SUSPENSION BRIDGE, KENMARE. COUNTY KERRY 



THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY 



IN going to the Lakes of Killarney we chose 
the magnificent road that follows the 
majestic sweep of the Kenmare River. Few 
people realize what a glorious river Ireland 
possesses in this body of water. We followed 
it with rare delight until our journey took us 
to an eminence some miles from the town of 
Killarney. From this objective point we be- 
held the three lakes of Killarney. What 
beauty lay before us and how placid were the 
waters ! Standing upon a high rock we gazed 
long and lovingly upon the scene before us and 
then hastened to the town. We lunched at 

78 



Beautiful Ireland 



79 



the International Hotel, a modern structure, 
and then motored to the Lakes. 

The boatmen, made famous by Gerald Griffin 
in his story of the " Collegians," awaited us at 
the foot of the lower lake, and when once 
seated in their skiffs their sturdy strokes soon 
brought us out upon the bosom of the waters. 




^M£&^tiM^(^d^^^^^m 



GAP COTTAGE, KILLARNEY 



One boatman was true to the reputation 
given to his fellow craftmen. He was loqua- 
cious, genially loquacious, and amused us by 
his narratives. He pointed out " O'Donohue's 
library " and his wine cellar. The peculiar for- 
mation of the rocks along the shore resembled 



80 Beautiful Ireland 

at one place folios piled upon each other, and 
at another place a striking resemblance to a 
wine cellar was manifest. 

Our boatman thought that we were quite 
credulous and pointing to a spot upon the lake 
in the distance told of a wonderful apparition 
that often occured there. He remarked that 
every evening a figure was seen crossing the 
water with a lantern, and that thousands of 
white mice followed him. We deceived the 
boatman by our mute attention, and after he 
had finished his weird story, we playfully 
asked him if he believed in the nightly inci- 
dent himself. He read in our countenances 
that we did not place credence in his narra- 
tive and forced him to admit that he did not 
believe " half of the lies " that he had told us. 

We drew close to the island of Innisfallen, 
and were enraptured by its beauty. The 
grasses were luxuriant and the trees were in 
perfect foliage. The ruins of the old monas- 
tery stood, beautiful in their majestic decay, 
and after having secured the boat we hastened 
to examine the sacred pile. Parts of the edi- 
fice are as intact today as in the days of its 
glory, and one cannot but marvel at the knowl- 



Beautiful Ireland 81 

edge and ingenuity of the monks who were the 
architects and builders. Besides the monas- 
tery and church a university also occupied the 
grounds. History states that they were built 
about the year six hundred, by St. Finian Lob- 
har. The regular Canons of the Order of St. 




GAP OF DUNLOE, KILLARNEY 



Augustine inhabited the monastery and many 
of them were engaged in the compilation of 
the celebrated "Annals of Innisfallen." These 
form a part of the real history of Ireland after 
the advent of Christianity. The original man- 
uscript is in the Bodleian library. It is written 
on parchment and contains fifty-seven quarto 
leaves. A copy of it may be seen in the library 
of Trinity College, Dublin. 



82 Beautiful Ireland 

St. Finian was buried outside of the church. 
A large tree grows over the grave stone. The 
roots sink into the ground on the sides of the 
slab. How remarkable is this eccentric feature 
and what a beautiful testimony to the worth of 
this Irish saint that a majestic tree should 




BRICKEEN BRIDGE, KILLARNEY 



spring from his very grave and its branches 
shade and shelter his final resting place. There 
are delightful retreats hidden in different parts 
of this Island. There are giant trees also and 
a rare profusion of flowers. It must have in- 
deed been an eden to the dwellers of the mon- 
astery for the music of the silver throated 
songsters and the delightful variety of the 
meadowlands and trees gives one a feeling of 
spiritual serenity. 



Beautiful Ireland 83 

The lakes have not been commercialized and 
hence motor boats do not yet trouble the waters. 
We were rowed back in a leisurely manner to 
our landing. 

While returning, Ross Castle looked majestic 
in the glorious sun of the afternoon. The great 
O'Donohue loved this magnificent structure 
and it was indeed peopled with great heroes 
in its pristine days. During one rebellion the 
Irish Lord Muskerry held it against four thou- 
sand parliamentary troops but unfortunately 
surrendered it when he was deceived by the 
number of the enemy. 

The boatmen are fond of calling attention to 
an echo while upon the lake some distance from 
the castle. Resting upon their oars, a clear 
call is given and with marked distinctness the 
words are re-echoed. The story is told that 
after the echo was heard one boatman surprised 
his listeners by saying that one loud interroga- 
tion addressed to a certain character named 
Paddy Blake was always answered from 
the parapets of Ross Castle. The boatman 
putting his hands to his mouth exclaimed, 
" Paddy Blake, how are you ? " There was a 
moment's silence, and then an answer in sweet 



84 Beautiful Ireland 

Irish tones came back, " I'm purthy well, thin, 
and how are you?" When the boatman 
reached the shore a small boy came from be- 
hind some brushwood and said to the party, 
" That God may bless you, gentlemen. And a 
little something, plase, for the echo of Paddy 
Blake." 




MEETING OF THE WATERS, KILLARNEY 

Another story is told of a boatman who called 
an echo a " she." When asked why he thus 
termed the echo, he replied, " Sure, thin, its 
because she's always afther havin' the last 
word, you know." 

It is said that the sun rarely smiles for a long 
period upon the Killarney Lakes. A thin mist 
frequently covers them. We were fortunate 



Beautiful Ireland 



85 



the day we visited Killarney. The sun poured 
a golden radiance upon the waters and there 
was a certain witchery in the serenity of the 
scene. Tom Moore has immortalized his visit 
to the lakes, and especially to the island of 
Innisfallen. 

" Sweet Innisfallen, long shall dwell 

In memory's dream that sunny smile, 
Which o'er thee on that evening fell, 
When first I saw thy fairy isle. 



Weeping or smiling, lovely isle ! 

And all the lovelier for thy tears — 
For tho' but rare thy sunny smile, 

'Tis heaven's own glance when it appears." 




OLD IRISH HANDLOOM 




MUCKROSS ABBEY, KILLARNEY 



MUCKROSS ABBEY 



MUCKROSS Abbey is a delightful place 
for the Irish pilgrim. The ancient pile 
is a noble testimony to the grandeur of the old 
faith and one acquainted with the history of 
this sacred edifice experiences a keen joy in 
thinking of the days when Muckross was peo- 
pled with the saintliest, the most learned and 
the most heroic of Ireland's children. 

In the days of its pristine glory Cormac 
McCarthy, the bishop king of Desmond who 
ruled with true regal dignity, entrusted this 
Abbey to the Franciscans, who guarded its 
sacred precincts with jealous care. 

86 



Beautiful Ireland 87 

Muckross, we are told, signifies a rock of 
rest. The sylvan environments of the Abbey 
do not belie the designation. Nature lavishes 
her beauties on this spot, and the luxuriance 
of her meadow-lands and tribes of forest warb- 
lers make the surroundings of this crumbling 
pile a veritable Eden. 

Connoisseurs of aged ruins love to loiter 
about this marvel of artistic masonry and the 
tracery yet evident to the eye of an observer 
wins unstinted praise for the abbey builders of 
the hallowed past. 

The ivy clad ruins of the present stand upon 
the site of the famous church of Irrelagh which 
was burned about seven hundred years ago. 
It was well termed the Irish Westminster. 
Under the stone floor of the church lie the 
ashes of the McCarthy More and the bones of 
the great O'Donohue, the idol of the Kerry 
people. Many of the great men of Munster, 
the poets of Kerry, the Knights of Killarney 
and the Irish kings, rest in the consecrated 
ground of the Abbey. No wonder the Irish 
pilgrims flock to this sacred mecca. The dust 
of their illustrious dead speaks eloquently of 
their quenchless love and faith. 



88 Beautiful Ireland 

As we treaded the. silent cloister the sweet 
chant of the departed seemed to break upon 
our ears and as we gazed upon many an altar 
stone now fondly carressed by tender grass or 
modest flowers we could not but think of this 
place when the angels of the All High wit- 




MUCKROSS ABBEY, KILLARNEY 



nessed the sublime devotion of Irish hearts 
while the Immaculate Lamb was sacrificed for 
Ireland's peace and the conversion of a Godless 
world. 

When my uncle was a young man in Ireland 
he had a great love for his old parish priest, 
Dean Carmody. The Dean was the pastor of 



Beautiful Ireland 89 

Castletownbere for many years, and on the 
second trip to Ireland my uncle was anxious to 
see him. 

Right Rev. Monsignor Carmody had retired 
from active work on account of his age and 
was living at Miltown with his brother, the 
parish priest. From Killarney we went to Mil- 
town, and not finding Dean Carmody there 
we motored on to Tralee where the old priest 
was spending the day. 

The meeting between my uncle and his for- 
mer spiritual director was tender. The Dean 
was in the winter of his life and my uncle was 
yet in the mellow richness of his maturity. 
In a heavy rain we travelled many miles that 
day out of our scheduled course to meet this 
kindly patriarch, and the inconvenience of the 
journey was repaid by the warm pressure of 
his hand and the affectionate greeting that he 
extended. 

I visited the Dominican church while in Tra- 
lee. I was charmed by the beauty of the inte- 
rior. Exquisite taste was manifested in the 
adornment and the effect produced upon a 
stranger gazing upon the myriad beauties of 
this temple undoubtedly causes deep and ten- 
der devotion. 



90 



Beautiful Ireland 



The church is thoroughly Dominican, and 
the artistic representations of her saints in 
painting, stained glass and marble, speaks elo- 
quently of the glory of the Order's children. 
The Fathers attached to the church are con- 
stantly engaged in parochial and missionary 
labors. They exert a deep and far reaching 
influence in the country surrounding their 
Convent. 




JOHNSTOWN CASTLE, COUNTY WEXFORD 




GEORGE STREET, LIMERICK 



HISTORIC LIMERICK 



IMERICK was our next objective point. 
■*— ' We were impatient to see this world-re- 
nowned city. Her citizens in the days of the 
cruel persecution heroically resisted the op- 
pression of tyrants. By an unyielding defence 
of the city, in which even the women and the 
children participated, Limerick won enviable 
distinction among all the sister cities of the 
world. 

We arrived in the evening, and found the 
thoroughfares active with moving vehicles and 

91 



92 Beautiful Ireland 

pedestrians. Our hotel was not exactly mod- 
ern, yet we found spacious rooms and courteous 
consideration from the management. 

In the morning we heard the sweet chimes 
of St. Mary's bells. The chimes are delight- 
fully appealing and have made the church of 
St. Mary's in Limerick famous in Ireland. 
The melody of the bells reminds one of the 
Shandon Bells. The liquid music is gently waf- 
ted throughout the city and follows the mur- 
muring waters of the Shannon for many miles. 

Denis Florence McCarthy has a beautiful 
poem in which he refers to the famous chimes 
at St. Mary's. It is called " The Bell Founder." 
A young man who wished to show his grati- 
tude to the Blessed Virgin for favors he had 
received from her presented to the church in 
his town eight silver-toned bells. They were 
to toll " for the quick and the dead." The 
liquid melody of the bells was associated with 
the sweetest memories of his life. 

Trouble at last came to Florence, and the 
bells were taken away. Bereft of the solace 
of the bells, this man wandered through the 
world in quest of them. When an old man, 
and almost entirely worn with his travels and 



Beautiful Ireland 93 

fruitless search, he entered a boat on the Shan- 
non river. When outside of Limerick he heard 
a glorious peal of music that enchanted him. 
The melody came from St. Mary's church, and 
his own dear bells again filled his soul with 
unutterable joy. U A rich peal of melody rings 
from that tower through the clear evening 
skies. 

He has found them — the sons of his labors — 
his -musical, magical bells." 

The wine of this new joy was too much for 
the ancient bell founder, and he died in a par- 
oxism of delight. 

The Shannon needs no introduction to Irish 

readers. It is a beautiful river. Thousands of 

Irish men and Irish women have rode upon its 

placid bosom. The words of Gerald Griffin 

voiced our genial surprise when we gazed 

upon it: 

" 'Tis, it is the Shannon's stream 

Brightly glancing, brightly glancing ! 
See, oh see the ruddy beam 
Upon its waters dancing ! " 

Limerick should always be remembered by 
liberty loving people throughout the world for 
the heroism of its struggle against the large 




94 



Beautiful Ireland 95 

number and well disciplined troops of England. 
The Treaty Stone in Limerick brings to the stu- 
dent of Irish history the memory of deathless 
valor and quenchless love for the sireland. 

Tyrconnel and Lauzun scoffed at the idea of 
defending the city and with their Swiss and 
French allies departed for Galway. Sarsfleld 
and other valiant citizens decided to defend 
the inhabitants and their city. 

The task seemed hopeless since the allies 
who should have remained to help carried 
with them on their retreat most of the ammu- 
nition. A large supply of arms and ammuni- 
nition were en route to assist the besiegers. 

By a clever piece of strategy Sarsfleld cap- 
tured the convoy and destroyed what had been 
destined to assist in the speedy ruin of the city. 
The men and women of Limerick immortalized 
themselves by their heroic resistance and de- 
termined efforts to repel the invaders of their 
homes. They had the happiness in their first 
efforts to see the hirelings of the English King 
hurled from their walls. A continued resis- 
tance proved futile and later Sarsfleld was 
forced to capitulate. The terms offered by the 
English representatives were fair, and though 



96 Beautiful Ireland 

solemnly entered into and promised to be ful- 
filled to the letter they were shamefully broken 
by England, and the Treaty Stone in this beau- 
tiful little city tells the sad tale of English in- 
sincerity and duplicity. 

Though a French fleet appeared a few days 
after the treaty was signed and was prepared 
to assist the Irish, nevertheless Sarsfield would 
not break his part of the pact and prove him- 
self recreant. He forbade the allies to land 
and ordered the vessels with their ammunition 
to depart. 

The ink had scarcely dried upon the parch- 
ment when England proved faithless to the 
solemn promises she had made to the Irish peo- 
ple. While the Treaty Stone remains in the 
city of Limerick the story of England's perfidy 
shall always be told. 



r~" 



it till! II liiH 




MOUNT ST, JOSEPH'6 COLLEGE, ROSCREA, COUNTY T1PPERARY 



FROM THE SHANNON TO DUBLIN 

BEFORE leaving Limerick we visited the 
Good Shepherd Convent. This institution 
is well situated and the Sisters have been emi- 
nently successful in their labors. We were 
very cordially received by the superior and 
graciously entertained during our visit. One 
nun we met is a grand niece of Ireland's illus- 
trious liberator — Daniel O'Connell. 

To pass from the mouth of the Shannon to 
Dublin Bay in one day would seem impossible 
twenty years ago. We made the journey in a 
day and stopped on the way at two or three 
places. 

97 



Beautiful Ireland 99 

Passing through Nenagh we came to Mount 
St. Joseph's Monastery at Roscrea. Our visit 
was well repaid. The Cistercian Fathers at 
the monastery always extend the kindliest 
welcome to tourists and strangers, and our 
party experienced the genial hospitality of 
these exemplary men. 

Father Hilary knew friends of our party in 
America and he welcomed us. His greeting 
was kindly and tender, and he conducted us to 
the different points of interest around the mon- 
astery and the college. 

Situated some distance from the town, the 
church is naturally somewhat small. The 
choir where the monks recite the Divine Office 
is screened from the church. It is large and 
austere in its monastic simplicity. Daily and 
nightly the prayers of the religious ascend to 
the Almighty for their own salvation and the 
spiritual welfare of the world. 

I enjoyed inspecting the interior of the mon- 
astery. Like all of the monasteries of Ireland 
it was erected to endure for centuries and 
showed the exquisite skill of the builders. An 
older monastery which was suppressed and 
ruined was founded by St. Cronan about the 



100 



Beautiful Ireland 



beginning of the seventh century. At this place 
the famous book of Dimma was written and 
preserved. At the time of the suppression of 
the monastery the book and a famous shrine in 
which it was encased were taken away by the 
monks. In the year 1789 some small boys 
found the book in a cavity of the mountains. 



rt 




t 



: «* IT alj! 



m 
m 



mm 



warn 







fil 






THE CHOIR, MOUNT ST. JOSEPH'S ABBEY, ROSCREA, COUNTY T1PPERARY 



A gentleman of Nenagh obtained possession of 
it. From him it was transferred to a Dr. Todd 
and later it was presented by this gentleman to 
Trinity College. 

A college for young men is situated a short 
distance from the monastery. It is taught by 



Beautiful Ireland 101 

the religious and is an excellent institution. It 
was a pleasure to watch the young men en- 
gaged in field sports and hear them while visit- 
ing the college give evidence of well trained 
and cultured minds. 

One may not forget Mount St. Joseph's at 
Roscrea or the Fathers at the monastery. The 
country surrounding the institution is delight- 
fully serene and picturesque and the thought 
that the atmosphere of religion permeates the 
place makes the memory of a past visit more 
charming. 

The journey from Roscrea to Dublin was 
pleasant. We passed through many interest- 
ing towns and hamlets. Maryborough and 
Kildare especially attracted us. There is a 
magnificent sweep of country around Kildare. 
The place where the English barracks are situ- 
ated is almost perfect tableland and offers the 
best possible advantage for the mobilization of 
troops. Few places excel it as a training 
grounds. The town of Kildare is especially 
known on account of St. Brigid. She settled 
here about 480. 

Dublin came up to our expectations. We 
hoped to see a large and flourishing city and 



102 



Beautiful Ireland 



we saw evidences to prove that we were not 
too sanguine. 

Our hotel was on O'Connell Street, and we 
were fortunate in being so situated as to be 
near the active life of the city. The pedes- 
trians we met the first evening of our arrival 
were well dressed. We noticed that the stores 




O'CONNELL STREET, DUBLIN 



did not close early so many people were abroad 
on the public thoroughfares. 

It caused us some little surprise to observe 
that the working class did not begin their 
labors early in the morning. In the United 
States it is common to see men and women 
going to their daily labor at half past six or 



Beautiful Xkeland 103 

seven o'clock. Nine o'clock in the morning 
seems to be a more convenient and a healthier 
hour for the people of Dublin. 

Although Dublin is a large city yet I could 
not but observe how free the people are from 
the maddening rush that is generally mani- 
fested on American thoroughfares. The gait 
of the people is elastic and the bloom of health 
is on their cheeks. I marvelled at the neatness 
of their attire. To me there did not seem to 
be the extravagance of American fashion, yet 
taste and refinement was evident in the choice 
and quality of their apparel. 

The morning after our arrival my uncle and 
I called upon the Dominican Fathers and were 
graciously received by them. They accorded 
us the privilege of offering the Holy Sacrifice 
in their magnificent church. The church is a 
spacious and imposing edifice, and the large 
number of the laity who were present evi- 
denced how exemplary a parish the Fathers 
directed. There are many altars in the church 
and from almost daybreak until the morning 
had far advanced they were constantly occu- 
pied by the religious in celebrating the august 
mystery of our redemption. 



104 



Beautiful Ireland 



Phoenix Park is a delightful garden spot. 
The people of Dublin are justly proud of it for 
few parks in any country excel it for scenic 
beauty. The driveways are spacious and well 
kept and the flowers, trees and meadowlands 
show constant care and attention. A pleasing 
sight is afforded a stranger when he gazes upon 




PHOENIX PARK, DUBLIN 



a large herd of deer quietly grazing. They are 
unmolested and move leisurely about over the 
immense area of the park. 

The park is constantly frequented by the cit- 
izens of the city and their families. The large 
trees offer excellent shade and the wide and 
flawless roads make the park a mecca for all 
classes. 



Beautiful Ireland 



105 



There are many imposing statues on Sack- 
ville or, as Irishmen prefer to call it, O'Connell 
Street. People may differ as to the relative 
merits of the different statues and their true- 
ness to the individuals they represent, but yet 
all are pleased to view the memorials to Daniel 
O'Connell and Parnell. 




DEER AT PHOENIX PARK, DUBLIN 



Statues are not needed to perpetuate their 
memories yet their life story is newly retold 
when one gazes upon their monuments. 

The Irish House of Parliament is now used 
as the Bank of Ireland. The House of Com- 
mons is used by the Bank proper and has lost 
its old identity. The House of Lords has not 
lost its entire pristine dignity and has not suf- 
fered much by rearrangement of interior ap- 
pointments. 



106 Beautiful Ireland 

In the vicinity of the Dominican Convent I 
was much edified by the piety of the children 
I met while walking through the streets. They 
frequently knelt on the pavements and asked 
for a blessing. I believe that this is a common 
practice with the children throughout the city. 

One should not fail to visit Trinity College 
while in Dublin. Rare treasures await the art 
lover within the walls of this institution. 
Founded in the year 1591 by Queen Elizabeth, 
it occupies the site of the ancient monastery of 
All Hallows. The monastery was suppressed 
by Henry the Eighth. 

The guide at Trinity College library was very 
affable and entertaining and took pains to ex- 
plain the history and value of the rare collec- 
tions we viewed. 

One lingers long in the section where the 
illuminated Missals are exhibited. The cali- 
graphy in the Missals is exquisite and the col- 
oring after the lapse of many centuries yet 
defies the finger of time. The monks of old 
are yet the unsurpassed masters in the art of 
illuminating manuscripts. Many books in the 
library illuminated by secular hands show an 
appreciable loss in the distinctness of color. 



Beautiful Ireland 107 

The work of the monks is the marvel of stu- 
dents and art critics, for up to the present day 
the Missals illuminated by the monks have not 
lost their pristine splendor. 

The Book of Kells is the cynosure of all visi- 
tors. It is generally conceded that the great 
Irish Apostle St. Columcille executed the work. 
Kells was a monastery that he founded and it 
is said that the work upon the book was done 
there. This book is regarded as the best speci- 
men of caligraphy and illumination in the 
world. It is over thirteen hundred years old 
and hence great care is exercised in preserving 
it. The leaves are of vellum. The colors are 
of a brilliant hue and show that the monks 
were perfectly versed in chromatic art. 

It is said that the ancient limners used the 
quills of birds for their delicate tracery, yet 
it takes the best magnifying glass to properly 
see the minute details of the work. Many 
eminent artists of Europe have tried their 
skill in copying some of the beautiful pages. 
They have failed in such pages as the XPI 
monogram and others which are of like per- 
fection. Some Missals antedate the Book of 
Kells but they are not so highly esteemed by 







108 



Beautiful Ireland 109 

critics. Two pages of the Book of Kells were 
exhibited the clay we visited the library. 
Those avIio misjudge the monks and their 
work during the early ages should see speci- 
mens of their labor which have outlived the 
centuries. 

The first folio of Shakespeare's work was 
exhibited in another part of the library. Oliver 
Goldsmith's name traced on a window pane 
while he was at Trinity College is to be seen, 
as also a prayer book used by Mary, Queen of 
Scots, with her autograph. 

We remained some time before the harp of 
Brian Boru. This famous instrument is still 
battling with the erosions of time. There is 
now no harpist to sweep its strings or to wake 
its soul hito melody. The glory of Tara is 
past and the harp is as mute as the crumbled 
ruins on Tara's Hill. Tom Moore's lines in- 
stinctively rise to our lips when we gaze upon 
this relic of other days. It saw the glories of 
Irish nobility and the regal magnificence of 
her fearless and cultured chiefs. Many a 
hero's praise was sung at the splendid ban- 
quets, and many a tear was shed when the 
bard placed his laurel wreath of song upon 



110 



Beautiful Ireland 



the brow of some clansman vanquished by 
the only acknowledged vanquisher of the 
race — death. 

' ' No more to chiefs and ladies bright 

The harp of Tara swells : 
The chord alone, that breaks at night, 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, 

The only throb she gives 
Is when some heart indignant breaks, 

To show that still she lives." 




JERPOINT ABBEY, COUNTY KILKENNY 




T 



MAYXOOTII SEMINARY 

H ROUGH OUT the English speaking 
world there are a great number of dis- 
tinguished priests who studied at Maynooth 
Seminary. The seminary is about fourteen 
miles from Dublin. About the year 17 ( ,)5 the 
English government established the seminary 
and endowed it with an annual grant of eight 
thousand pounds. For centuries the Irish 
priests were hounded and driven from their 
native land. They were forced to study in for- 
eign countries, and after the completion of their 
course they entered Ireland conscious that each 
moment their lives were imperilled. England 
feared the Irish priesthood, and when a spirit 
of toleration demanded thai Ireland should be 
1 1 1 




112 



Beautiful Ireland 113 

permitted to worship God as she chose a bill 
was passed sanctioning the establishment of a 
seminary for the education of Irish priests. 
England feared that Irish priests educated on 
foreign soil might diseminate revolutionary 
ideas among the Irish people. To avoid this 
danger and also as a tardy acknowledgement 
of her past inhumanity to Ireland's spiritual 
leaders Maynooth College was erected. 

The priests who went forth from this cele- 
brated institution have done honor to Ireland 
both by their piety and their learning. The 
old foundation has been greatly improved and 
one marvels at the solidity of the structure and 
the large amount of ground that the present 
buildings occupy. 

The day that we visited the seminary the 
students were in the throes of an examination. 
The large and beautiful courtyard was con- 
stantly traversed by many of the anxious stu- 
dents who were either going to or returning 
from the board of examiners. 

About six hundred young men attend the 
classes. It is quite impressive to see the stu- 
dents in their black cassocks walking through 
the spacious cloister or intently studying a 



114 Beautiful Ireland 

tract in philosophy or theology in the library. 
Though not modern in appointments yet the 
library is sufficiently large and contains thou- 
sands of volumes by the most illustrious writ- 
ers in the different branches of knowledge. 

The chapel is superb. The interior charms 
one with its beauty and invites prayer and de- 
votion. It is as spacious as many of our large 
city churches. Those who spent years of study 
at Maynooth must enjoy splendid recollections 
of the magnificence of the divine service con- 
ducted in the chapel. 

To the former president, now Most Rev. Abp. 
Mannix, of Sidney, Australia, we owe the de- 
lightful hours that we spent at the seminary- 
He courteously received us and personally es- 
corted us around the grounds and about the 
buildings. We felt honored by being asked to 
take tea with him and his genial humor kept 
us in much merriment. We rejoiced a short 
time after our visit to hear of his elevation to 
the episcopacy. 

A short and pleasant journey outside of Dub- 
lin is Tara. A visitor is well repaid for the time 
he spends at this historic spot. In the early 
ages of Ireland's history the king's palace was 



Beautiful Ireland 115 

on Tara Hill. The king was called Ard-ri and 
held a Fes or meeting at his residence at cer- 
tain intervals for his nobles and learned men. 
At these meetings the laws and records of the 
country were examined and important busi- 
ness transacted. The proceedings were writ- 
ten down in a book called the Psalter of Tara. 

The Fes or meeting was held a few days be- 
fore the first of November and the primary 
intention was to hold it every three years. 
After a lapse of time it was held irregularly 
and finally the nobles and learned men gath- 
ered only at the beginning of a new king's 
reign or when important business made their 
presence imperative. Tara was abandoned as 
a royal residence in the sixth century. 

In the old days Tara was the center of regal 
magnificence. One may picture to himself the 
splendor of the occasions when the flower of 
Irish nobility and learning assembled at one 
place. Irish nobles were second to none in the 
prowess of arms or in the stateliness of per- 
sonal dignity. Though pagans in great part 
before the arrival of St. Patrick, yet their reli- 
gion did not debase them. Ireland has always 
been renowned for the accomplishments of her 




IN THE CENTER RT. REV. BISHOP MANNIX OF SIDNEY, AUSTRALIA, 
FORMER PRESIDENT OF MAYNOOTH 



116 



Beautiful Ireland 117 

scholars, and hence when her nobles and 
savants were gathered together their meet- 
ings were undoubtedly marked by unusual 
splendor. 

The most illustrious of all her pagan kings 
was Cormac Mac Art, the grandson of " Con of 
the Hundred Fights." He was a warrior, a 
scholar and a law maker. It is said that he 
erected three colleges at Tara. One was for 
the teaching of Law, another was for the teach- 
ing of History and Literature, and the third 
one was for instruction in Military Science. 

All Irishmen are acquainted with St. 
Patrick's relation to Tara. In the year four 
hundred and thirty-three, on the eve of Easter, 
he was at the Hill of Slane. According to his 
custom he lit the pascal fire on the top of the 
hill. The king and the nobles of Ireland at 
the same time were about to begin the celebra- 
tion of a pagan festival on Tara hill nine miles 
away. The lighting of a fire was part of the 
ceremony. The Irish law stated that while the 
fire on Tara hill was burning no other fire 
should be kindled in Ireland on pain of death 
to the offenders. When the king saw the fire 
which St. Patrick had started he was amazed. 



118 



Beautiful Ireland 



He called his Druids and questioned them. 
They replied: " If that fire which we now see be 
not extinguished tonight it will never be ex- 
tinguished, but will overtop all our fires and he 
that has kindled it will overturn thy kingdom." 
The king hastened to the hill of Slane. He 
summoned St. Patrick to his presence and after 




BIRTHPLACE OF DANIEL OCONNELL 



an interview he ordered him to appear before 
his court on the following day. 

On Easter morning St. Patrick proceeded to 
Tara with his followers and while on the way 
they sang a hymn to the Almighty, asking for 
His protection. King Laegaire beheld St. 
Patrick and his companions approach. All 
were robed in white. The saint wore his mitre 



Beautiful Ireland 119 

and held a crozier in his hand. Dubthach, the 
king's poet, welcomed them, although he had 
been forbidden previously to do so. St. Patrick, 
unawed, explained the tenets of Christianity 
and confounded the Druids. Dubthach be- 
came converted and St. Patrick was permitted 
to preach the Gospel freely throughout the 
island. 

Tara is also remembered as the battle ground 
of a crucial struggle when Malachi defeated a 
host of foreign invaders. This victory was 
achieved in the year 979, the year before Mal- 
achi was elected king of Ireland. 

In the year 1798 four hundred insurgents 
were defeated on Tara hill. This insurrection 
was unfortunate in its results although intrepid 
men espoused and died for a cause that ended 
unhappily. 

Perhaps the largest gathering of men assem- 
bled for a political purpose was witnessed when 
in 1843 about two hundred and fifty thousand 
people went to Tara to hear the illustrious 
Daniel O'Connell. Ireland's liberator worked 
to have the Act of Union repealed so that Ire- 
land might again have her own parliament. In 
the year 1840 he founded the Repeal Associa- 



Beautiful Ireland 121 

tion for this purpose and the monster meeting 
held at Tara brought Irishmen from all parts 
of the island to hear the address of their 
champion. 

The day we motored to Tara was flooded 
with sunshine. We caught a view of the hill 
at a distance and naturally thrilled when the 
memories of Tara's former glory passed 
through our minds. The ascent to the hill did 
not seem to fatigue us and Ave were somewhat 
disappointed to find that we climbed it so read- 
ily. The hill is not precipitous and as part of 
the journey was made in an auto the personal 
pleasure of wending our way entirely on foot 
lessened our enthusiasm. When Ave arrived at 
the crest of the hill the full beauty of this 
glorious eminence broke upon us. It was car- 
peted with a rich vesture of green and from its 
unsurpassed objective points a panorama of 
exquisite scenery was unfolded to us. We re- 
alized why the former kings of Ireland chose 
this eminence for their palatial abode. For 
miles and miles the charming prospect of Irish 
scenery bewitched us. The hills and fields and 
woods were arrayed in entrancing variety. 

The hill of Tara is more than a half mile in 
width at the top and grass covered mounds can 



122 Beautiful Ireland 

be seen which show the remains of the founda- 
tions of the palace and other buildings. 

The mound where the kings were crowned 
invited us to tread upon its greensward and we 
eagerly ascended it. Daniel O'Connell electri- 
fied and thrilled the largest concourse of uni- 
ted Irishmen ever gathered from this same 
place where formerly Ireland's kingly sons re- 
ceived their kingship and charge. 

St. Patrick consecrated Tara by his spiritual 
eloquence and his lucid exposition of Chris- 
tianity. Clothed with both spiritual and re- 
gal authority he left Tara and quickly won the 
Irish people to the sweet obedience of Christ. 

There is a statue of St. Patrick on top of 
Tara and it commemorates his lasting work 
for the people he loved. A short distance 
from the statue are the croppies graves. 
These men died valiantly for a hopeless cause 
and their sunlit homes win many an orison 
for the repose of the tenants as the pilgrim 
from other shores or from Ireland stands 
with uncovered head and thinks of their valor. 

After we had viewed the ruins of an old 
monastic church and thought of the cruel rav- 
ages of ruthless oppressors we took a last look 
at the renowned hill. One incident after 



Beautiful Ireland 123 

another passed through our minds as we gazed 
at the desolation which time, like a fond 
mother, had gently covered with her verdure. 
The kings were gone ; the palaces were gone ; 
the colleges were destroyed ; the bards and the 
ancient heroes who loved Ireland and labored 
for her greatness — all — all we knew were 
sleeping in the mighty sepulchre of Ireland's 
former splendor. 

We could not fail to think and sing of Erin 
as Tom Moore aptly sang to his generation. 
We encourage Ireland of today when we say 
in the words of her bard, " Let Erin Remember 
the Days of Old." 

' ; Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime, 
Catch a glimpse of the days that are over; 
Thus sighing, look through the waves of time 
For the long faded glories thev cover." 




St Oolumbklii 



te s blouse, t/teii 




124 




A JOURNEY NORTHWARD. 



O 



N our journey northward we stopped at 
Drogheda. This town is well known to 
lovers of Irish history. Cromwell's dastardly 
command for the massacre of a garrison estab- 
lished there and the townspeople shall never be 
forgotten by the Irish people. The brutality of 
the slaughter tills one with horror and invites 
well merited contempt for a man who is un- 
justly praised by unthinking Englishmen. 

Drogheda is very religious. Though small 
in comparison with other Irish cities it mani- 
fests great zeal for the maintenance of religion. 
Many churches are situated at convenient dis- 
tances. 

125 



126 Beautiful Ireland 

We had the pleasure of being entertained by 
the Dominican Fathers. Their church is spa- 
cious and well built, and the priory where the 
Fathers reside is thoroughly monastic in its 
appointments. The scenery on the outskirts 
of the city is delightful and well repays the 
leisure touring of a visitor. 

Kells. — Both business and pleasure brought 
us to Kells. This town is renowned on account 
of its association with the famous Book of 
Kells. It is said that St. Columcille executed 
the work on this book while residing there. 
An excellent specimen of an old Celtic cross 
stands in the town square. 

The stone cell of St. Columcille is next to 
the church, once owned by Catholics. The cell 
is at the top of a commanding stone structure. 
Quadrangular in shape, it has a slanting stone 
roof. Entering through a low door the visitor 
is surprised to see a tall iron ladder leading to 
an upper chamber. After a rather perilous 
perpendicular ascent a low arched door at the 
top reveals a small room. At the opposite side 
of this room an aperture leads into another 
chamber called the cell of St. Columcille. Tra- 
dition has it that the saint had this peculiar 




THE CROSS OF KELLS 



127 



128 Beautiful Ireland 

stone edifice erected so that he could retire 
from the public gaze with greater freedom for 
study, prayer and contemplation. It is said 
that formerly a rope ladder was used to gain 
access to the upper chamber, and to cut off all 
possible disturbance the rope ladder was drawn 
up after the saint had reached the stone land- 
ing. Many remark also that an underground 
passage led from the edifice to the nearby 
church. One marvels at the exquisite masonry 
and the solid roof of stone which has defied the 
ravages of fourteen centuries. 

We were amused in this town when we saw 
an old donkey passing through the streets un- 
harnessed and unmolested. The donkey was 
about twenty-five years old and enjoyed rare 
privileges from the townspeople. After graz- 
ing quietly in different sections during the 
afternoon he returns to his owner. 

Dundalk. — We found Dundalk a populous 
and a thriving centre. The principal street 
was filled with active pedestrians and there 
seemed to be signs of prosperity among the in- 
habitants. The Dominican Fathers have a 
magnificent church in the town and cour- 
teously entertained us. 



Beautiful Ireland 



129 



On the evening of our arrrival we visited 
different sections of the municipality. The 
streets were decked in gala array and an im- 
mense throng of people wended their way on 
the thoroughfares. On this evening the people 
were celebrating the installation of an electric 
lighting system, and the illumination of the 




DUNDALK DOMINICAN CHURCH 



streets by electricity was welcomed with great 
joy by the citizens. On our walk we visited 
magnificent church structures in different lo- 
calities. What glorious temples the Irish peo- 
ple have erected to their Creator. 

We met an American tourist in this town on 
a Sunday morning standing before a church. 
He asked us at what time the Masses were to 



130 



Beautiful Ireland 



be offered. Being strangers we were unable to 
inform him. He remarked that there were few 
people out early in the morning in Ireland to 
seek information from. He said that the Irish 
people seldom took breakfast. The signs in 
their restaurants, he said, generally read 
"Luncheon, Dinner and Tea." The word 
breakfast is usually omitted. One of our 




DUNDALK 



party stopping at a hotel in the city had diffi- 
culty in re-entering at ten o'clock in the evening. 
The door was locked. The next morning he 
had to arouse the porter at seven o'clock to 
unlock the door leading to the street. 

On Sunday morning after our Masses at the 
Dominican Church we again started on our 
northward journey. The scenery was entranc- 
ing and the air was delightfully crisp. We 



Beautiful Ireland 131 

tarried a short time at Glenore, Carlingford 
Lough and \ewry. Each plaee peculiarly at- 
tracted us. The Dominican Fathers have a 
very fine College at Xewry. 

While Hearing Carlingford Lough we in- 
quired of a pedestrian the direction to our next 
terminus. He pointed to the telegraph wires 
and told us to "follow the band of ribbons." 

Passing through Bainbridge and Lisburne, 
we came to Belfast. Belfast is a large city and 
a great commercial centre. The people are 
thrifty and the industrial activities give them 
almost constant employment. An anti- Catholic 
bias is very evident among certain classes of 
the citizens. This unreasonable and undigni- 
fied attitude brought much disgrace upon this 
city during the recent Ulster agitation. 

We arrived late on Sunday afternoon at 
Port rush and registered at the magnificent 
Northern Counties Hotel. The vicinity of the 
hotel was garden like in appearance and the 
location itself commanded an excellent view of 
Dial))' miles of a disturbed and heaving sea. A 
short drive from the hotel is the famous 
Giant's Causeway. Early on the morning 
after our arrival we motored to this place. 



132 



Beautiful Ireland 



Few people realize the wild grandeur of the 
Giant's Causeway. After passing the entrance 
to the Causeway we walked about a mile be- 
fore we came to the real objects of interest. 
As we wended our way to the rock formations 
we were charmed by precipitous hillsides and 




NORTHERN COUNTIES HOTEL, ANTRIM 



a beautiful red sand-stone that frequently 
flanked our path. 

The tourist who visits the Giant's Causeway 
literally marvels at the rock formations that 
he sees. The stones are about a foot in diame- 
ter and about six inches deep. The shape is 
pentagonal with an occasional hexagonal one. 



Beautiful Ireland 



133 



There are millions and millions of these stones. 
They extend for many hundred yards into the 
sea and on land reach to unknown depths into 
the earth. The bottom of one stone is convex 
and the surface of the underlying one is con- 
cave. The stones fit perfectly. In their aggre- 
gate they present fantastic shapes. On the 




side of a hill the stones are so formed that the 
appearance of an organ is suggested. 

The Wishing Scat offers much amusement 
This formation invites the visitor to rest upon 
it. Three wishes are to be made, and I think 
that the firsl wishes of all our party were that 
Ireland would soon obtain Home Rule. 



134 



Beautiful Ireland 



If I mistake not scientists are silent when 
asked to explain the perfect symmetry of the 
individual stones helping to make this prodigy. 
Some people say that men of earlier ages may 
have executed the work although the task 
seems too stupendous for human hands. Others 
say that the perfect finish of the individual 








stones could not have been wrought by nature, 
as nature in other parts of the world has not 
executed her designs with such perfect mathe- 
matical minuteness. 

Derry. — Derry, or Londonderry, as the inva- 
ders named it, could not be passed on such an 
eventful trip as ours. It was the next city on 



Beautiful Ireland 135 

our northern route. History teems with both 
the glorious achievements of this ancient city 
and at the same time with the rancorous big- 
otry manifested by its inhabitants in recent 
times. 

In the year 546 St. Columcille built a church 
at Deny on land presented to him by prince 
Aed Mac Ainmire, a cousin. Later this prince 
was King of Ireland. About the year 1608 
King James I had Deny colonized with Scotch 
and English settlers. The land had been con- 
fiscated and turned over to these men. 

In the year 1688 an unfounded threat as- 
cribed to Catholics of the country that they 
were to slaughter the inhabitants of the city 
caused great consternation. It was said that 
December the ninth was the day appointed for 
the massacre, but like all other unfounded and 
calumnious reports of Catholic rapine and in- 
trigue the day passed without the bloody ful- 
fillment. 

The approach of an army, however, some- 
time afterwards, caused the people to renounce 
allegiance I < » King James and espouse the cause 
of \Yilli;i in and Ma ry. 

Colonel Lundy was appointed Governor. 
With tlif leading men lie wished to surrender. 




136 



Beautiful Ireland 137 

Adam Murray with a small body of horse 
arrived to help the inhabitants. The people 
chose him as their leader, and Lundy escaped 
at night. The prominent people deserted the 
cause and the common people, undisciplined in 
warfare, were left to continue the resistance. 
Provisions were hard to obtain and refugees 
came in from other places. Seven thousand 
fighting men and three hundred and forty 
officers made up the military defenders. 

On April 18, 1689, the siege began. The be- 
siegers through negligence lacked ammunition 
for the fight. In many respects they were 
likewise undisciplined as a large number of 
their recruits had been picked up during the 
last few months. 

Towards the end of the siege the inhabitants 
fought while starving. Their enthusiam was 
marvelous. Their religious zeal nerved them 
for their conflicts and the women especially 
manifested a fearless composure under all try- 
ing difficulties. They carried food and ammu- 
nition to the soldiers and hurled stones at the 
invaders with an untamed defiance. Disease 
brought on by exposure from living under the 
shelter of the walls wrought great havoc in 
the lines of the brave defenders. 



138 



Beautiful Ireland 



In the middle of June thirty ships were seen 
coming to the aid of the famished citizens. 
One volunteer swam to the shore with the 
good news. The captain of the fleet was 
afraid to enter the harbor on account of a 
heavy chain stretched across it. The people 
remained without immediate succor for six 




weeks. One ship finally broke the chain and 
the long desired provisions were then unloaded. 
Hamilton marched away on the thirty-first 
of July in 1689. The siege lasted one hundred 
and five days and was the most famous in Eng- 
lish or Irish history. Of the seven thousand 
fighting men, four thousand and three hundred 
survived. Ten thousand people perished, 



Beautiful Ireland 139 

mostly from disease and starvation. Some 
of the relics of the siege are still reverently 
preserved. 

The Rev. George Walker, a minister of the 
town, won immortal fame by his heroism and 
constant service. His statue graces a lofty 
pillar in the town and people of all creeds are 
unstinted in their encomiums for his fearless 
loyalty to the interests of his fellow townsmen. 

To the honor of Deny let it be said that in 
1795 when it was known that Pitt intended to 
remove restrictions against Catholics one of the 
most timely addresses in favor of his action 
came from the purely Protestant corporation of 
Deny whose ancestors had fought so bravely 
against the army of the Catholic king a century 
before. Today Deny is a great industrial cen- 
tre and for the first time in more than a hun- 
dred years the Catholics are in the majority. 





■PH| 


ff^ 






140 



- ■■ - — - • 



along tup: western coast. 



WE motored leisurely through Strabane 
and came to Donegal. The pass of 
Barnes More afforded us rare delight as the 
glens were attractively beautiful. Though 
Donegal is a quiet town yet it peculiarly invites 
the tourist. The Franciscans wrote most of 
their masterpiece here — "Annals of the Four 
Mast cis." They were men of great patriotism 
and learning and their work shows dec]) re- 
search and accuracy. It is said that the work 
was done at Donegal Abbey. Unhappily this 
historic structure is now a ruin. The iron hand 
of war and devastation crumbled it. Another 
place of historic interest is the O'Donnell (as- 
tir. Here the famous Red Hugh ruled. He 
in 



142 Beautiful Ireland 

partially destroyed the castle in 1601 rather 
than let it become tenanted by his English foes. 

We did not tarry long at Ballyshannon and 
on a pleasant evening we arrived at Bundoran. 
Bundoran is a little town on an inlet of Done- 
gal Bay. It is a fashionable resort for many 
people on the western coast of Ireland. There 
is a splendid beach for bathing there and an 
elegantly appointed hotel situated a short dis- 
tance from the town is a mecca for those who 
love the superb scenery of this part of the 
coast. 

Sligo was on our road. Though well situated 
as a sea-board town it does not enjoy much 
traffic. English jealousy and unjust English 
legislation destroyed its trade as it did to many 
other towns along the coast. The quiet beauty 
of the country makes one linger over its loveli- 
ness. One battle in '98 was fought close to 
this town. 

Galway seemed much quieter than Sligo. It 
is war scarred and even today the ruins speak 
eloquently of former daring and heroism that 
make the present inhabitants take just pride in 
their ancestors. In May, 1652, Galway surren- 
dered to Coote after a siege of nine months. 



Beautiful Ireland 



143 



Ginkel also brought about the surrender of the 
town on July 21, 1691. 

Athlone, the very heart of Ireland, is some- 
what of a railroad centre. Besides enjoying 
the rare distinction that the river Shannon 
starts in its vicinity the city has the enviable 
honor of being the battle ground for many a 




ATH LON E 



conflict where undaunted courage and unyield- 
ing heroism brought glory to the character of 
the Irish soldier. 

Phelim O'Connor suffered a severe defeat 
here. He with most of his nobles, and a very 
large number of his army, were killed in an 
engagement with the Normans. 

The first wooden bridge built on a pile foun- 
dation in Ireland was constructed at Athlone. 



Beautiful Ireland 145 

Roderick O'Connor was the man who was sing- 
ularly successful in thus spanning the Shannon. 

An important fortress was at Athlone and it 
made the town a strategic centre for military 
operations. In 1690 William sent Douglas with 
twelve thousand men to sieze the town. After 
one week's bombardment he was unsuccessful 
and retreated. On the nineteenth of June, 
1691, Ginkel appeared before Athlone with an 
Army of 18,000 men. He attempted to cross a 
bridge into Connaught. His passage was stub- 
bornly resisted. The Irish soldiers broke down 
one arch of the bridge. Ginkel succeeded in 
having planks placed across it. A sergeant 
with eleven Irish soldiers rushed to the bridge, 
and under a deadly fire started to tear up the 
timber the British had placed there. When 
the smoke cleared none escaped from the havoc 
of the British fusilade. Another party of 
eleven rushed across to where their comrades 
had fallen and finished the work. Mne of the 
eleven fell. 

A short distance below the bridge was a ford. 
It was passable in dry weather. Twenty men 
abreast could cross it. St. Ruth, the com- 
mander of the Irish forces was informed of the 



146 



Beautiful Ireland 



English plan to cross the ford. He sent two of 
his weakest regiments to protect it and did not 
inform his fellow officers of his specific plans of 
resistance. Ginkel's men crossed the ford and 
the town was taken in half an hour. 

The remains of the castle are still to be seen 
and the bridge draws thousands of pilgrims to 




gaze upon the quiet waters of the Shannon and 
muse upon the bravery of the valiant defenders 
of other days. 

There are many people in the United States 
whose birthplace was Roscommon. There is a 
quaint beauty about this little town and we 
were sorry that we could not remain in it lon- 
ger. We enjoyed a short chat with some of 



Beautiful Ireland 147 

the inhabitants, procured some gasoline for our 
car and motored to Carrick-on- Shannon. 

The weather was soft and balmy when we 
reached this town. We were greeted with 
quite an agreeeable picture of peace and con- 
tentment when we entered. Some Xuns were 
teaching in a garden next to their convent. 
The atmosphere was so delightfully mild that 
it permitted them to gather their pupils about 
them on the green without the school, and the 
sweet serenity of the teacher's countenances to- 
gether with the guileless expression and quiet 
demeanor of the children etched themselves 
indellibly upon our minds. 

We made a few inquiries of a gentleman 
that we met upon the road. His name was Mr. 
Patrick Flynn. We desired to know the direc- 
tion to Wood Island, and his information was 
direct and courteously given. This gentleman 
marvelled at the prosperity of the United 
States and the lofty and independent character 
developed in her citizens. My uncle and Mr. 
Gartland were sterling types of American man- 
hood and proud of Ireland as their sireland, 
they were objects of deep admiration for this 
generous Gael. 



148 



Beautiful Ireland 



Mr. Flynn invited us to his home. Refresh- 
ments were placed before us and an hour of de- 
lightful converse was enjoyed. 

A brief visit was made to Wood Island. 
Mrs. Gartland of our party called to see the 
brother of a religious in California. The house 
was on an eminence and overlooked a lake. 




ROSCOM MON 



Genial Irish hospitality was shown to us 
and as the late afternoon was somewhat cold 
we enjoyed the fine open hearth with blazing 
peat fire. We did not know that one of our 
party was an excellent rifle shot. There were 
myriads of large birds flying over and around 
the lake. We went a short distance from the 



Beautiful Ireland 149 

house to a place that commanded a good view 
of it. Mr. Gartland pointed his rifle at a bird 
in the far distance and after the report of the 
weapon one bird dropped into the lake. Mr. 
Gartland on many other occasions in California 
proved that his marksmanship was unerring. 

We witnessed the making of black peat be- 
fore we left this vicinity. Some care is required 
in producing this. When one considers that 
coal is rarely used by Irish farmers and that 
peat almost offers the same advantages atten- 
tion to this art can readily be seen is a neces- 
sity. The brown turf is cut as it is found in the 
bogs. The black peat, if I mistake not, goes 
through a simple process of treatment before 
it is ready for the hearth. 

We saw some very beautiful lakes at Long- 
ford. They charmed us with their serenity 
and quiet grandeur. To me Lough Oulgh 
seemed superior to the largest lake at Kil- 
larney. There are many beautiful lakes in Ire- 
land and I believe that the tourist dwells as 
lovingly in their vicinity and muses as tenderly 
over their beauteous bosom as the ones that 
have gained more renown. 




FROM MULLINGAR TO DUBLIN. 



BEFORE entering Mullingar we saw a ped- 
estrian about thirty feet in front of us on 
the road. When he observed our machine he 
hastily scrambled up an embankment. There 
was not the remotest danger to this man, but I 
suppose an innate fear of all automobiles 
prompted him when he saw ours to take imme- 
diate flight. 

We arrived in Mullingar in the quiet of the 
evening when the towns-people were enjoying 
a respite from the labor of the day. The air 
was cool and after dinner we strolled along the 

150 



Beautiful Ireland 151 

principal street. A Scottish regiment was 
camped there at the time. The soldiers passed 
through the town the evening we arrived and 
presented rather a martial appearance in their 
national garb. One who has been thrilled with 
Scott's border tales and charmed with the de- 
lineations of his intrepid characters would 
enjoy the picturesque trappings of these sol- 
diers and the weird music of the bag-pipers. 

My uncle and I offered the Holy Sacrifice at 
the cathedral and were charmed with the devo- 
tion the interior appointments instilled in us. 
Christian Brothers teach in an adjoining school 
and were present at our Masses. Ireland 
should never forget her debt of gratitude to 
these exemplary men. They are intensely de- 
voted to their calling and the thorough scholar- 
ship of their graduates attests their efficiency 
as teachers of youth. 

Bishop Clarence Guaghran, the Bishop of 
Meath, resides at the episcopal rectory in the 
town. His kindly and affable manner won us 
and we spent a pleasant half hour conversing 
with him. He remarked that the Irish people 
did not rush about in their business districts 
like hurricanes or with an almost ruthless 




152 



Beautiful Ireland 153 

velocity like the ever hastening American. To 
him the philosophy of the Irish citizen seemed 
to he to work industriously and not worry 
while domestic happiness and comfort could be 
obtained. 

There was a donkey in the yard of the hotel 
we were stopping at. Our attention was 
drawn to him while he was standing motion- 
less hi the sun. Presently two jackdaws 
alighted on his back. With great industry 
they began to remove hair from his back. We 
watched the operations of these two birds for 
ten minutes and during their process of ab- 
straction the donkey did not so much as relax 
a muscle or move an eyelash. 

Dublin was the terminus we were desirous 
of reaching, as our itinery was about to be com- 
pleted, but a visit to Cavan was scheduled, as 
Mrs. Gartlancl, in our party, formerly resided 
there. On a Saturday evening we reached our 
hotel and while Mrs, Gartland was driven to 
her home I visited the parish rectory. Father 
McGee was the pastor and his welcome was 
cordial. I obtained permission from him to 
offer the Holy Sacrifice on the following morn- 
ing in the workhouse. This institution was 



154 



Beautiful Ireland 



situated a quarter of a mile from the church. 
I was glad to be of service to the poor inmates 
but I must confess that my heart was wrung 
with pain when I gazed upon the wrecks of a 
former sturdy manhood and queenly woman- 
hood. It is sad to look upon men and women 
who have failed in life's battle and whose per- 




R. C, BISHOP'S PALACE, MULL1NGAR. 

sonal improvidence or the merciless heel of 
adversity left prostrate for the public's care. 
There were not many people in that work- 
house and I feel confident in saying that Ire- 
land is not burdened either by a large number 
of absolutely indigent people or numerous in- 
stitutions for people of that class. 



Beautiful Ireland 155 

From Cavan we went direct to Dublin and 
arrived there at three o'clock in the afternoon. 
Mr. James MacCarthy, a school mate of my 
uncle's and a life long friend greeted us upon 
our arrival, and a trip was planned to his home 
in Carlow for that evening. We left at five 
o'clock and assisted by excellent roads and 
perfect weather we made the trip in remarka- 
ble time. On our way Mr. MacCarthy pointed 
out the school where the great Edmund Burke 
received the early rudiments of his education. 

A late dinner that evening at the splendid 
home of Mr. MacCarthy refreshed us. The 
house was pleasantly situated on an elevation 
of ground and banked on the rear and sides by 
trees in full foliage. In front, on either side of 
the walk, beautiful flowers grew in rare profu- 
sion, and a well kept lawn of some fifty yards 
made the whole appearance of the home serene 
and picturesque. 

Our host and hostess were charming enter- 
tainers and the bright, sparkling wit of Mr. 
MacCarthy kept us in good hmrior the entire 
evening. The host told us the story of a char- 
acter that convulsed us with laughter. He said 
that a certain Michael Malone went one day to 



Beautiful Ireland 157 

the County Fair with his donkey and cart and 
a few articles of produce. After selling' his 
produce he met many friends and toasted them 
over a few glasses of beverage. That evening, 
while on his way home, drowsiness overcame 
Michael, and while the donkey took his period- 
ical rest from the exertion of the journey, 
Michael fell into a peaceful sleep. When Mrs. 
Malone had taxed her patience to the utmost 
in waiting for the return of her husband she 
finally decided to go in quest of him. A mile 
from her home she met the helpless occupant of 
the cart and resolved to shame him. She un- 
hitched the donkey and led it home. When 
Mr. Malone awoke the next morning he was 
at a loss to account for the disappearance of 
the donkey. Getting between the shafts he 
dragged the cart to the office of the town mag- 
istrate. The magistrate answered Michael's 
summons to the door and then Michael put the 
following interrogatory : "Your honor, is my 
name Michael Malone?" "It is," replied the 
man. " Well," continued ."Michael, "if my name 
is Michael Malone I have Lost a donkey, and 
if ii is not I have found a cart." 

I was fortunate after my arrival in Carlow to 
offer the Holy Sacrifice ;it the Presentation 




CARLOW COLLEGE. 

158 



Beautiful Ireland 159 

Convent. I have not seen a larger Academy 
for young ladies, and I daresay a more beauti- 
ful chapel than the one the Sisters assemble in 
for their devotions. A cloistered garden within 
ottered excellent opportunities for the inmates 
to meditate while walking among the flowers. 
The Sisters were very kind in receiving us, and 
the morning of my visit is still fragrant in my 
memory. 

Carlo w College is a renowned institution, 
and being the oldest in Ireland has sent her 
devoted sons to all parts of the world for the 
cause of Christianity. The morning we visited 
the College the young priests and clerical stu- 
dents were preparing to leave for their homes 
as the second semester of their studies had 
closed. The young men looked happy and the 
professors were also quite mirthful. All hard 
working men enjoy a respite after months of 
incessant labor, and we can truthfully say that 
the vacation period is a time that both profes- 
sors and students treasure. Intellectual effort 
wears the individual as well as manual, and on 
the day when I entered Carlow College I was 
glad to see the anticipated looks of out door 
recreation upon the faces of the class-worn 
laborers. 



160 



Beautiful Ireland 



The Rev. Dr. Foley was president at the time 
of our visit. His school though tried by the 
ravages of years yet holds its majestic appear- 
ance. The faculty were gracious in their re- 
ception and entertainment, and a few hours 
of pleasant conversation were enjoyed while in 
the precincts of the institution. 




O'CONNELL MONUMENT, DUBLIN. 




STEAMSHIP CAMPANIA. 



GLASNEVIN AND TALLAGHT. 



TWO places remained to be visited before 
our departure from Ireland. Glasnevin 
was one, where the body of Daniel O'Connell, 
Ireland's great Liberator rests, and Tallaght 
was the other where the remains of Father 
Tom Burke, the illustrious Dominican, are jeal- 
ously guarded. 

At Glasnevin a famous University once exis- 
ted. It was reputed to be one of the greatest 
in Ireland. Students from the mainland and 
other countries of Europe attended the lec- 
tures and returned to their homes, when their 
studies were completed, exemplary missionaries 
for both intellectual and spiritual progress. It 
was well that O'Connell's body was brought 

1G1 



162 Beautiful Ireland 

back from Italy to rest among scenes so hal- 
lowed, where the monks of previous ages had 
labored so hard for Ireland's spiritual uplift 
and the intellectualadvancement of her children. 

When standing in the presence of the tomb 
of O'Connell, and after touching the wood of 
the coffin that holds his remains, one cannot 
but pass in retrospect the life work of this man 
and his glorious achievements. Ever the 
acknowledged leader of his people, he labored 
untiringly for their interests. No work was 
too arduous for him when the people of Ireland 
were to be benefited, and his wonderful genius 
for organization and persistent agitation for 
the causes he believed in invariably brought 
him success. 

Ridicule, sarcasm, threatening, yes, even im- 
prisonment itself, could not lessen the intensity 
of his ardor and devotion for Ireland's welfare, 
and when stricken by the death dealing angel 
many miles from his native shores, his last 
thoughts were both of his God and his country. 
How beautiful the thought that to Rome, 
whose doctrines he unswervingly practised 
throughout his life, he willed his heart, and to 
his own native land which he loved tenderly 




163 



164 Beautiful Ireland 

to his last breath, he consigned his body. The 
shaft which perpetuates the memory of Ire- 
land's Liberator is a glorious evidence of Ire- 
land's devotion to her dead champion, and the 
inscriptions that are cut into the stone wall of 
the vault wherein he lies speaks eloquently of 
Ireland's faith in a future life. 

Other illustrious sons of Erin rest peacefully 
in the cemetery of Glasnevin. They labored 
long and patiently during ages of darkness and 
storm for Ireland's emancipation. Their eyes 
were closed in death before their hopes were 
realized. We are a more fortunate people, and 
the children of Ireland today are reaping the 
rewards of intrepid leaders who knew no sur- 
cease in their efforts to make Ireland a free 
nation. 

Tallaght. — The resting place of Father Tom 
Burke remained to be seen. From Dublin we 
motored to Tallaght and our visit was well 
repaid. In the quiet seclusion of beautiful 
trees and delightful woodland scenery are both 
the Priory and church so intimately related 
with Father Burke's life. 

He was Novice-master at the Priory for some 
years, and it is said that with quiet study and 



r» 



l'.Al Til I I. LKELAND 



L05 



laily meditation at this peaceful spot, lie 
aid the foundation for his greal career as a 
►readier. I re did net deem i he church suffi- 
ciently appointed for the parishioners of Tal- 
aght, and by means of money he received from 




FR, TOM BURKE. 



his led ures in the L r nited Si ates, he made pos- 
sible ih'' new church which glorifies I lis indus- 
i r\ and i >erse> em nee. 

The leu fist is elm I'ined with i he sacre< I edi 
fice. It is substantially built and the interii >r 







B' iPrilllt- IBM!!? §11111 



til: 







INTERIOR OFTHE DOMINICAN CHURCH ATTALLAGHT, WHERE REPOSES 
THE BODY OF FATHER TOM BURKE, O. P. 



lGfi 



Beautiful Ireland 167 

is artistically decorated and devotional. What 
comfort, what peace, and what opportunities 
for the practice of their religion he gave to the 
people of Tallagtit by his unremitting labors 
for this church. 

Near the end of the church, at the foot of a 
side altar, a slab marks the resting place of 
Father Burke. Visitors linger before the altar. 
Those who enjoyed his friendship and those 
who listened to his silver tongue surrender to 
sweet reveries while they pray for the departed 
priest. He loved Erin passionately, and after 
his Creator, to her he gave the great energies of 
his youth and maturer years. He is not for- 
gotten for his exemplary life and tireless devo- 
tion to Ireland's cause, and while the fair skies 
bless a still fairer land the memory of the 
apostle of the Crucified shall be fragrantly em- 
balmed in the minds of all religious and liberty 
loving people. 

We regretted to leave Ireland, yet the time 
for our departure bad arrived. We left Dublin 
in the evening on a steam packet for Liverpool. 
None on the boat felt sadder (ban our party, 
for the hours and days of our visit were 
crowded with sunshine and pleasure. The 




16S 



Beautiful Ireland 169 

dream of my life was realized when I drank in 
the entrancing beauties of Ireland's multiple 
glories. Now that they were to become mem- 
ories I regretted the passing of the realities. 

All Irish people going from Ireland to Eng- 
land gaze lovingly upon their native land as it 
passes from their view. Our party was on deck 
watching both the friends on the ship and the 
friends on the shore bidding adieu to each 
other. \Ye were soon pleasantly surprised by 
the sweet and plaintive voices of about twenty 
young ladies on a nearby wharf singing to their 
friends who were leaving them the beautiful 
song of "Come Back To Erin." The singers 
were comely young ladies and neatly attired 
and must have deeply affected their friends 
with the pleading invitation to return at some 
near future day. 

Our purpose in going to England was to meet 
Mr. John Redmond. The agitation on the 
Home Rule bill at that time was keen, and my 
uncle was anxious to get direct information 
from the great leader on the issue of Ireland's 
chances for self government. Mr. William 
Redmond, the brother of John, received us 
when we went to the British Parliament and 




HON. JOHN E. REDMOND, M. P. 



BeAUTIFU I. [ilELAND 



171 



while waiting for the arrival of his brother 
conducted us through the House of Lords. An 
amusing part of this visil with .Mr. William 
Redmond was the viewing of a large painting 
of Henry the Eighth, with all his wives. A 
very appropriate place was chosen for the 
painting and perhaps it often occurs to the 
present Lords that Henry the Eighth was not 
such a good example for Englishmen to follow 
as oilier leaders had previously thought. 

Upon our return to the House of Commons, 
Mr. John Redmond approached us and gave 
my uncle a cordial greeting. For some years 
past on the day preceding the seventeenth of 
.March a small box of shamrocks was received 
by my uncle from Mr. Redmond. He knew of 
my uncle's work in California among the 
Hibernians as State Chaplain and was also 
acquainted with his literary work on Irish 
subjects. He discussed the possibility of the 
final passage of the Home Rule bill and as- 
sured us thai defeat was impossible. He told 
us hy what majority he expected the measure 
to he passsd and the recent accounting on the 
bill in the House of Commons proved that two 
years before its passage John Redmond had 
the [rish question well in hand. 




ARCHBISHOP M'HALE'S STATUE, TUAM. COUNTY GALWAY. 



172 



Beautiful Ireland 173 

My uncle asked him what message he should 
cany to Irishmen in the United States. Mr. 
Redmond said: "Tell them that the Home Rule 
bill shall pass and that Ireland's future never 
looked brighter than it now appeal's. 1 ' 

We sailed from Liverpool on a Saturday, and 
on Sunday morning arrived outside of Queens- 
town. A tender brought out many passengers, 
and a large quantity of mail. Souvenir sellers 
had their last chance, and by different methods 
boarded the ship. The most perilous and at the 
same time the most amusing way was by climb- 
ing up a rope on the outside of the vessel. Some 
ladies approached the side of the ship in a 
small skiff and had a rope thrown to them. A 
loop was made, and making this serve as a seat, 
the men passengers were requested to bring 
the women up in safety. The men who were 
near gladly assisted, and when the women 
were placed upon the deck they unfolded rare 
articles for purchase. They did not fail to 
exhibit flashes of keen wit, and their genial 
remarks invited many uninterested people to 
buy from them. 

A short time after leaving Queenstown the 
Catholics on board assembled in the second 




MARKET STREET, TUAM, SHOWING CELTIC CROSS. 



174 



Beautiful Ireland 175 

cabin for religious services. Father Raymond, 
a Capuchin Father, played a few hymns on the 
organ and my uncle then led in the recitation 
of the Rosary. I preached when the Rosary 
was finished. 

I shall never forget the scene that impressed 
me during the recitation of the beads. The 
people with bowed heads were devoutly count- 
ing each decade and my uncle raised his voice 
in gentle supplication as he addresed his words 
to our Blessed Mother. At a distance from the 
cabin window I could look out upon the ocean 
and the fastly receding land. I realized that I 
was viewing Ireland perhaps for the last time. 
I knew that many in the cabin would never see 
her again and that they would die on foreign 
shores. How beautiful her coast looked. AVhat 
grandeur appeared in her hills ! Before the last 
Ave was recited Ireland to me was a memory, 
and I with hundreds of her children was 
many miles away from her upon the track- 
less sea. 



MM 



yffiJiSXOf CONGRESS, 



0021376 947 9 



